


A Dragon's Heart

by WorryinglyInnocent



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Dragon!Rumpel, DragonHunter!Belle, F/M, Gift Fic, Rumbelle Secret Santa 2016
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-20
Updated: 2016-12-20
Packaged: 2018-09-10 16:49:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 23,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8924713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WorryinglyInnocent/pseuds/WorryinglyInnocent
Summary: "Whoever has captured a Great Dragon’s heart cannot die.” Rookie dragonslayer Lady Belle of the Marchlands is determined to continue her father’s legacy and assist in the capture of the Great Golden Dragon. But a new friend and a chance encounter with a  mysterious fellow traveller who knows her father begin to change her perception...Rumbelle Secret Santa gift for annythecat





	

**Fic: A Dragon’s Heart**

**Giftee:** @annythecat

 **Santa:** worryinglyinnocent

 **Prompt:** Dragon!Rumpel, Happy(ish) Ending

 **Title:** A Dragon’s Heart

 **Word Count:** 23142

 **Rating:** T

 **Summary:** _“Whoever has captured a Great Dragon’s heart cannot die.”_ Rookie dragonslayer Lady Belle of the Marchlands is determined to continue her father’s legacy and assist in the capture of the Great Golden Dragon. But a new friend and a chance encounter with a  mysterious fellow traveller who knows her father begin to change her perception...

 **Note from Santa:** Hello my dear! I’ve had a blast writing this gift and I really hope you enjoy it. I’m sorry there’s no smut, but I didn’t want to shoehorn it in. Never say never to a smutty sequel in 2017 though!

========

**A Dragon’s Heart**

The castle’s great hall was large and intimidating, its high, vaulted ceiling making every sound double in volume and echo around the huge chamber. Belle was very aware of her footsteps tapping along the stone floor, the only sound breaking the eerie silence. At the other end of the room, a group of battle-scarred men in worn armour were gathered by the dais on which the throne stood. Their attire showed that they had come from all over the kingdom, and some from even more outlandish parts of the realm beyond the borders. They were all seasoned fighters and hunters with years of experience behind them, and Belle gulped, trying to push down the butterflies in her stomach. She could do this. She had trained long and hard for this moment and she deserved her place here among them as much as the next man.

All eyes turned to her as she continued to hurry down the room towards the throne, and as she approached, she could see the incredulous looks on the men’s faces, and heard the whispers that began to pass around the group, but she ignored them, bowing to the queen in the way her father had taught her. It was a lot more nerve-wracking now that she was actually in front of a person and not practising her chivalry to the apple trees in the garden.

“Rise,” the queen said, her voice cold and unamused, and Belle got back to her feet. Queen Cora was an imposing figure in the kingdom even when one wasn’t in her immediate vicinity, but her irritated glare made Belle just want to sink into the floor.

“And who, may I ask, might you be?” the queen asked.

“Lady Belle of the Marchlands, Your Majesty.” Belle replied calmly, very proud that her voice did not quaver in the face of the queen’s disdain. “I received your invitation to join this expedition, so here I am.”

Queen Cora raised an eyebrow.

“I do not recall any invitation being sent to you, Lady Belle,” she replied. “This expedition was intended to be a private and by necessity secretive affair; it is not open to any stragglers who might wish to tag along, seeking glory.”

“I don’t know,” one of the men said. “I’m sure we could put her to good use en route. It’s a long journey to the Devil’s Mountains after all, and the path is cold, harsh and lonely. I’m sure we’d all be grateful of what little comforts we can get.”

Belle felt a hand grab her bottom and she whirled around, kicking her assailant backwards and drawing her sword.

“I am no man’s ‘little comfort’,” she snarled. Around her, the other men were laughing and whistling, making lewd comments about her fire. Only one did not join in with the mirth, his clothing showing that he was from the Far East of the realm and the Empire there, his face hidden behind his oriental helmet. He stood apart from the rest, watching Belle closely.

“Lady Belle, swords are not drawn in this hall,” the queen snapped. “Sir Claude, I would advise that you refrain from such unseemly discourse in the presence of your monarch in future.”

Sir Claude stood back, abashed, and Belle sheathed her sword.

“Lady Belle, please tell me how come you are aware of this expedition and are seeking to take part in it, or I will have you thrown in the dungeons on charges of espionage,” the queen continued.

“Your invitation came to my father, Lord Maurice of the Marchlands,” Belle replied, trying not to think about the dungeons. “Alas, his health is failing so he sent me in his place. Not wanting to let you down, Your Majesty,” she added.

Queen Cora sat back in her throne. “I presume your father has told you what we seek on this adventure. It will not be easy.”

“You seek the Golden Dragon,” Belle said. “My father was the most renowned dragonslayer in the Marchlands in his time, Your Majesty. He would not have received your invitation were it otherwise. He has two dozen heads to his name and he has passed his skills on to me.”

“That may be, Lady Belle, but how many heads do you have to your name?” the queen asked, her voice icy.

“The Marchlands were purged of dragons ten years ago, Your Majesty. We have had no need to slay since.”

“So you are telling me that you have no heads to your name.” The queen was sounding distinctly unimpressed, and Belle took a deep breath.

“Not yet, Your Majesty.” She was determined not to be turned away. Her father’s pride and reputation rested on her shoulders now, and she had to prove to him that all the time he had invested in her training was not in vain. “But my father told me that it is not this dragon’s head that you seek. Capturing a dragon takes something different to simply killing one. Anyone can kill a dragon with enough steel and enough dumb luck.”

The queen quirked an eyebrow, and for the first time a smile tugged at the corner of her mouth for a flicker of a second before her face resumed its previous cool aspect.

“You are in the presence of the finest dragonslayers that this entire realm has to offer, Lady Belle,” she said. “You may want to think twice before slighting their triumphs and expertise in such a way.”

Belle stood her ground.

“Your Majesty, I have come to represent the Marchlands in this quest, and that is what I intend to do.”

The queen was silent for a long time, her fingertips drawing spirals on the wooden arm of her throne as she considered the situation.

“Very well,” she said after what seemed like a lifetime but could only have been a few minutes. “Welcome to the expedition, Lady Belle.”

“Your Majesty,” one of the other dragonslayers began to protest. “Surely…”

Queen Cora turned her cold eyes on the man who had spoken. “Are you doubting the word of your queen?” she asked.

The man opened his mouth to say something else then shook his head. “No, Your Majesty.”

“You’re not my queen,” said a heavily accented voice from the back of the group. It was a man from the southern lands, outside of Cora’s borders, who had spoken, and the queen raised her eyebrows.

“I am your queen as long as I am paying you for your services on this expedition,” she replied calmly. “If you wish us to part company, you may leave now and I will bear you no ill will. Just be aware that you will not receive your share of the spoils from this quest.”

The southerner continued to glower, but said nothing more.

“Well then, it is settled. Lady Belle will accompany you on the expedition. Your provisions are packed and the carts are waiting. I wish you all the very best of luck.” The warmth in her voice faded. “I trust you all know what will happen if you fail in this task. Either you return to me with the dragon, or you do not return to me at all.”

There was a silent nod of agreement from all of the dragonslayers. Belle suppressed a shiver; she too knew what fate was waiting for them if they failed to return to the queen with the Golden Dragon in tow.

The doors at the end of the throne room swung open once more, and the troupe was dismissed, guided through the castle by liveried servants towards the courtyard where their transportation was waiting. There were two carts piled high; one with food and water and other necessities; the other with vicious-looking chains and weaponry. Belle did not bat an eyelid at the heavy ironwork; she had seen enough of it on display in her father’s great hall to know what it was for and how it all worked. She’d handled chains like that often enough during her training. She knew the weight and feel of them, knew how to swing them to catch around a dragon’s wing or leg and pull it down.

The fact that she had never actually seen a dragon in her life, apart from in paintings, was not lost on her. As the other slayers boarded the carts, some electing to ride horseback alongside, she studied their faces and hands. All of them bore the marks of having fought with dragons in the flesh before: shiny burns, deep scratches, the odd milky eye or missing finger. She knew that her own unblemished visage would not inspire confidence in them, but she could not let that bother her. She would never get to be a tried and tested dragonslayer if she fell at the first hurdle; one could not gain experience without first having, well, experiences.

The carts set off, trundling through the castle courtyard and out across the drawbridge. It was a three day journey to the Devil’s Mountains, beyond which the Golden Dragon made its home. Once they were past the range, there was no telling where their journey might take them or how long their quest would last. The Golden Dragon was rumoured to be the last of the dragons in the kingdom, all the others having been hunted to extinction, and no-one knew precisely where it made its home.

Well. No-one _knew_ , but Belle had had her suspicions for a while now. Settling herself on the very uncomfortable bag of apples that seemed destined to be her perch for the rest of the journey, she opened her pack and took out the small book that her father had given to her. Ever since she could remember, she had been fascinated by the beasts that had made her father’s fame and fortune in the Marchlands, and ever since she had learned to read, she had devoured every text on the subject that she could. Although she had never met a dragon personally, she knew as much about them as the other slayers on the cart with her. Perhaps more, since they seemed focussed entirely on killing the creatures, rather than learning anything about them.

“What is that?” one of the men asked, grabbing the book out of her hands.

“Hey, give that back!” Belle reached for the book, unseating herself and ending up in a pile of apples on the hard wooden bottom of the cart. “It’s valuable information that might help us to find and capture the Golden Dragon!”

The man flicked through the book, raising an eyebrow. “How can you even read this?” he asked. “There’s no pictures. Were you intending to bore it into submission?”

Belle rolled her eyes and succeeded in snatching the book back. “Have you ever tried looking further than the end of your sword for assistance with hunting down your dragons?” she asked.

The soldier leered at her. “Never had to, sweetheart.”

“I am not your sweetheart,” Belle snapped, and the soldier raised an eyebrow.

“Then you and your books are really not much use on this expedition, are you?” he said, before grabbing the book again and tossing it to one of the others, who began to flick through it, his rough dragon-skin gauntlets scratching at the delicate old pages.

“This is gibberish,” he complained. Belle rolled her eyes again and got up from the bottom of the cart, brushing herself down and wobbling over to the soldier in the ricketty trap, making to grab the book back from him, but he just held it out of her reach. “You’re never going to be able to kill a dragon if you can only reach its ankles,” he added with a snort of laughter.

“It’s called another language,” Belle growled, ignoring the comment on her height. “One that I happen to understand, although to be honest I’d be amazed if some of you could read your own.”

The other men in the cart laughed. “Oh, that’s fighting talk now, sweetheart.”

“Don’t ‘sweetheart’ me!”

“Very well then, _milady_ ,” Sir Claude began, taking the book from the other soldier and tapping her on the chest with it, “I think we know the best place for this.”

Before Belle could stop him, he tossed the book onto the road behind them.

“That was my father’s!” Belle exclaimed.

“How heartbreaking,” Claude said, his voice bored. “Maybe if you’re so desperate, you should be reunited with it.”

The other two men in the back of the cart picked her up bodily, their grip like iron despite her vehement fighting against them, and summarily threw her out of the back of the cart. She landed heavily on the stony path, wincing as the sharp gravel dug into her. Luckily her sturdy adventuring outfit did not rip, but it was still painful and not at all the most promising start to her first quest as a dragon slayer. At least she’d still had her pack strapped on and hadn’t lost that as well as her mode of transport. It would take an age to reach the Golden Dragon’s hoard on foot, even if she did have more of an idea of where she was going than the rest of those on horseback and in the cart.

“Here.”

Belle looked up from contemplating the gravel track to see a hand held out in front of her, a hand that was attached to an arm that was attached to the warrior from the Far East. A black horse was standing patiently nearby, and Belle surmised that he must have been following the rest of the group and had seen her get thrown off the cart. Gratefully she accepted the hand up, and brushed herself down.

“Thank you, Sir…” She trailed off as the man removed his helmet. “Wait, you’re a….”

The lady warrior grinned and shook out her long dark hair. “Just like you, Lady Belle.” She held out a hand to shake. “My name’s Mulan, pleased to meet you.”

Belle just shook the offered hand, somewhat dumbstruck. “Likewise.” She looked down the road after the cart and the other outriders, but it was long gone. “Did they know?”

“No. I’ve found that in our line of work it’s sometimes best to practice a little deception,” Mulan said. “It’s not lying,” she added, calling back from where she’d wandered down the road and picked up Belle’s book. “I don’t tell them that I’m a man. I just don’t tell them that I’m not, either.”

Belle was beginning to think that perhaps adopting a masculine disguise might have served her better in this expedition so far, but at least she seemed to have found a friend, however unexpectedly.

“I recognise this book,” Mulan said, bringing it back over to her and holding it out. “I saw a copy of it once when I was training in the Empire. You really think that it will help us to find the Golden Dragon?”

Belle nodded, flicking through the book and lamenting its damaged pages, until she found the relevant section, holding it out to Mulan.

“The Golden Dragon has been around in legend for centuries,” she explained. “Everyone knows that it makes its home beyond the Devil’s Mountains, but there is so much land to the south of there and despite so many expeditions into the caves, they’ve never found its hoard.”

“ _The Golden Dragon’s hoard of blue flower clay is well-protected and no quest has yet uncovered it_ ,” Mulan read aloud. She looked at Belle incredulously. “That doesn’t really tell us anything that we didn’t already know. We know that no-one’s found the hoard, and believe me, it’s not for want of trying.”

Belle grinned. “It’s not your first time going after the Golden Dragon, is it?”

Mulan shook her head. “No, this is the fifth time my emperor has sent out someone to try and find its hoard and my third excursion. I’ve found many hoards in my time but never the Golden Dragon’s.”

“It might tell us that the hoard has never been found, but it does tell us something very important about that hoard,” Belle pressed. “All dragons hoard different things, right? And all dragons have their own territories and tend to stay within them; they don’t co-operate well.”

Mulan nodded. “That’s true.”

“The Golden Dragon hoards blue flower clay, which it bakes into gemstones with its fire,” Belle continued. “People who’ve seen the dragon have seen the chips of the blue stones decorating its wings, that’s how they know what it hoards.”

“Go on,” Mulan said, intrigued now. “I’m listening.”

“Blue flower clay is only found in one very specific part of the world. The Frontlands, about three days’ ride south-west of the Devil’s Mountains. Dragons can cover hundreds of miles in a single flight, but they always come home to roost with their hoard.”

“That’s amazing,” Mulan said. “We’ve been trying to track this dragon for years, and it took you what, a day to figure that out?”

“Well, it took me a while to learn the language before that,” Belle replied. “But no, in the end it didn’t take too long to put two and two together. The Golden Dragon will be found wherever blue flower clay is found.”

Mulan glanced back down the road after the long-since vanished cart with the other dragonslayers in it.

“They’re going to go in completely the wrong direction,” she said, her voice calm and matter-of-fact, before she turned to Belle again. “Come on. There’s an inn not too far away, we can get you a horse for the journey there. Khan can carry us both for a while.”

She led the way over to where her horse was placidly nibbling at the grass and swung herself up onto his back, offering a hand up to Belle so that she could climb on behind her, and the pair set off at a gentle trot.

“Thank you,” Belle said presently. “For letting me come along with you.”

“Oh, I think you’re going to be useful, Belle,” Mulan said with a chuckle. “Anyone would be a fool to let your knowledge slip away just because you’re a woman and this is your first quest. Besides, we ladies need to stick together.”

“Thank you, I do appreciate it. All the same, wouldn’t you rather have gone on with the main expedition?”

Mulan laughed again. “It might have escaped your notice, but I wasn’t exactly going on with the main expedition to start with,” she said. “I was invited to join the quest, as were all the famed dragonhunters in the realm, but I have a somewhat different goal in mind.”

“You’re not intending to capture the dragon?”

“No. I am a warrior of honour and I take no pride in killing or subduing creatures that are simply trying to protect themselves.”

“You’ve never killed a dragon? But I thought…”

“I said hunters, not slayers, for a reason,” Mulan continued. “My speciality lies in finding dragons’ hoards. Some dragons’ hoards are harmless, but others are somewhat kleptomaniac and so people require the hoarded items to be restored to their rightful owners. Of course, finding a hoard brings you one step closer to finding the dragon itself as they will always return to their hoard eventually, no matter how far they might stray. No, I have never killed a dragon.”

“Oh.” Belle was somewhat wrong-footed by this remark, and the two women fell into silence as they continued to ride on.

“I’ve never known anyone launch an expedition to capture a dragon, though,” Mulan began. “Most of the time when dragonslayers are commissioned, they are asked to do just that.”

“To slay,” Belle agreed. “My father was only ever asked to rid the land of dragons. No-one ever wanted him to keep one alive.”

“There are the old legends, I suppose, but I thought that they had been proved false years ago, just stories made up to increase the trade in rare items on the black market.”

“I’ve heard most of the old legends surrounding dragons,” Belle said. “I wonder if we’re thinking of the same one.”

“The power of the dragonheart?” Mulan suggested.

Belle nodded. “Yes. The idea that consuming a dragonheart will grant immortality. My father always thought that was a bunch of rubbish, just made up by the traders. They would dye pickled horse and cow hearts and claim that they had once belonged to dragons and ask for astronomical amounts of gold in return for the elixir of life. Once we rid the Marchlands of dragons it was harder for them to continue the practice, and the number of dragonhearts on offer dwindled rapidly.”

“Yes,” Mulan agreed. “But those are just stories. Surely Queen Cora would not believe them. From what little I know of her, she seems to be a singularly practical individual. Scarily so, sometimes.”

Belle shuddered at the memory of the queen’s cold eyes on her. “I’ll agree with you there,” she conceded. “But at the same time, I don’t know what might be going through her mind. People have done more foolish things than eat a dragonheart in the hope of living forever. At any rate, why would she want the dragon alive if all she wanted was its heart?”

“That’s what puzzled me,” Mulan admitted. “Unless there is some truth in the legends, and people have just been going about it all wrong for hundreds of years. And this _is_ the Golden Dragon we’re talking about here, not just any local drake taking a few sheep or stealing copper out of the mines. The Golden Dragon is almost a myth in and of itself. The last of the Great Dragons. Maybe their hearts are different.”

Belle nodded, thinking of the Great Dragons, who had been around since the dawn of the realm itself. There had been four to start with, each watching over the north, south, east and west respectively, but over time the other three had all been killed by slayers, before Belle’s birth, and only the legendary Golden Dragon, guardian of the southern drakes, remained.

“Do you think it’s true that the Great Dragons could turn into humans and live amongst us?” Belle asked Mulan presently.

The other woman nodded. “Yes. I think so. How else has the Golden Dragon been able to hide so well for so long?” She grinned over her shoulder. “You never know. I might be the Golden Dragon myself.”

Belle laughed, and they continued their ride with no further comment for another couple of hours until they reached the inn that Mulan had mentioned. There was no sign of the cart, and Belle was not surprised; they had enough provisions packed to last them the journey through the Devil’s Mountains and they probably would not stop until they had come through the treacherous pass. They were already far ahead of the duo, and Belle wondered how much of an advantage knowing to go to the Frontlands would be.

“We’ll stay here for a while,” Mulan said, guiding the horse over to the stables. “Khan needs to rest, and this is our last chance to get food that’s not been cooked over a campfire before we cross the mountains. We need to make a plan and a map anyway if we want to find the hoard. Some of the people in here might be familiar with the Frontlands area, it’s pretty much the last outpost before we get there.”

Belle entered the inn; there were not many people in the main room and they looked up to see who had entered, but no-one paid her any attention beyond the cursory appraisal of a newcomer. She went over to the innkeeper, quickly making arrangements for hiring a horse for her journey and getting some food for herself and Mulan. Whilst it was somewhat unusual for a woman to travel alone in these parts, her practical adventuring garb and the very obvious bow and blade strapped to her waist showed that she was not one to be trifled with. Belle had travelled a little with her father when he had still been well, and she knew enough of these inns to know that as long as you looked like you could take care of yourself, you were generally left alone.

Taking the bowls of hearty stew to a table in the far corner, out of the way, Belle could still feel herself being watched, and she looked sharply around the place to find the pair of eyes on her. All of the other patrons were absorbed in their own meals and drinks, most of them weary from long journeys through the mountains or stoking their strength ready to make that trip, just as she and Mulan were doing. Eventually she found the source of that uncomfortable feeling at the back of her neck. A man was sitting in the shadows near the bar, a hood low over his face but his eyes still just about visible. He looked like a wanderer or hermit from the large packs shoved into the corner behind him and the stout quarterstaff leaning on the bar, and she caught his eyes, letting him know that she was onto him. He did not look away, still staring at her steadfastly, and Belle gave a shudder, turning away and beginning to eat. Mulan joined her a few moments later, peering over her shoulder at the man in the corner and quirking an eyebrow.

“Well, we’ve got one person’s attention at least,” she muttered, but her voice was good-natured. “One of the grooms in the stables gave me a map of the Frontlands,” she said. “All we need to do is work out where the blue flower clay is found, and that’s the direction that we take.”

Belle opened her pack and took out her own sets of maps and notes, spreading them out on the sticky table with Mulan’s.

“Did you bring an entire library?” Mulan exclaimed on seeing the amount of papers.

“Not the _entire_ library,” Belle protested. “Just the things that I thought might be useful.”

“I’m beginning to wonder whether you’ve actually packed any provisions for the journey in that bag of yours or whether it’s literally just books,” Mulan said. “Still, I’ll trust you with the intellectual side and I’ll take care of making sure we can eat. I suppose that would have been the only advantage to sticking with those buffoons; we’d have had access to all their supplies.”

“I think that might have been more trouble that it was worth,” Belle grumbled, rubbing her bruised hip where she’d landed heavily.

“You’re right. Ok, so what do we know about blue flower clay?” Mulan asked, getting down to business.

“It’s very dry, and it tends to be found under the mountains,” Belle said, drawing a line down the mountain range in the middle of the Frontlands, beyond the Devil’s Mountains themselves.

“Dragons do love their mountains,” Mulan agreed, keeping her voice low. Although dragonhunting and slaying was a well-respected profession, it was also an unusual one and Belle knew that they couldn’t afford to draw too much attention to themselves, even more so since they were going after what was ostensibly the last dragon around, and the most powerful one at that. “Especially for keeping their hoards. There should be plenty of caves that we can try.”

“Yes. We might as well start the search there.”

They continued to plan their route for the next few days, taking a quick but hopefully not too taxing path across the foothills of the Devil’s Mountains to bring them out as close to the Frontlands as possible. More than once, Belle found herself glancing over her shoulder at the hooded man in the corner. He was still watching them, his gaze intent if somewhat concealed from the rest of the bar, and it unnerved her.

“Just ignore him,” Mulan said under her breath. “He’s probably one of those old-fashioned types wondering what two women are doing out without a chaperone but too afraid of the blade to do anything about it.”

Belle gave a snort of laughter and kept eating her stew. Presently, the man moved, suddenly getting up and shouldering his packs, grabbing the staff and throwing a couple of copper coins down onto the table to cover his meal. He did not look at the two women as he passed their table, and Belle wondered if he had heard Mulan’s words and was leaving, abashed, because of them. She watched him until he was out of the door and out of sight; he walked with a heavy limp, leaning on the quarterstaff, but there was a strength in his gait that told her clearly that he would be able to use that staff in a much less benign way if needed.

“Well, we don’t have to worry about him any more,”

They finished their meal and lingered in the warm inn for a little longer before going to collect the horses and get back on their way. The rest of the day was spent in a companionable quiet, sometimes passing comment on the weather or the scenery, until night began to fall and they set up camp in a secluded clearing away from the road. Belle made a small campfire and checked their provisions; there was enough to last them until they had crossed into the Frontlands, but they could not afford to be gluttonous. Once fed, she took up the book that had been through so much already that day and began to skim its pages again, looking for any further clues as to the Golden Dragon’s whereabouts. On the other side of the fire, Mulan was checking over her sword and bow, and Belle sighed, leaning back against her pack, her brow furrowed.

“How are we going to go about this, Mulan?” she asked. “I mean, we can work together to find the dragon and its hoard, but ultimately we have somewhat different aims when we get there. I’ve come on this trip to capture the dragon, but I know that you’ve just come to find its hoard and report back to your Emperor.”

“We’ll work it out,” Mulan said. “We have a few days before we get to that point.”

“I know, but I’d rather know where I stand now.”

“Well,” Mulan began, “I suppose it depends. Why do you want to capture the dragon? Because you said it yourself, capturing one is very different to killing one, and capturing one usually takes at least five people.”

Belle nodded. “They do usually work on the principle of death before dishonour,” she said. “When the invitation from Queen Cora arrived, my father  warned me that they’re rarely taken alive.” She paused. “I suppose that’s why I want to capture the dragon. To keep up my father’s legacy.”

“But your father was a slayer, am I right? His success is measured in heads, not those captured live, and slayers, like hoard-hunters, work alone.”

“True. I just don’t want to let him down. His father was a dragonslayer before him; the line goes back quite a way. And... Capture or not, I just want to see the Golden Dragon in the flesh. I know how legendary it is and how few people in this current generation have seen it, but my father saw it once. He had a perfect shot, his crossbow was set up ready, but as the dragon flew by, he couldn’t take it. He said that he’d never seen a beast so majestic.”

“So, you want to finish the job that your father couldn’t?” Mulan suggested. “I’m not censuring you here, I just want to understand.”

“No, it’s not that. To be honest, I don’t think really want to capture the dragon at all. I came with that in mind because that was the point of the expedition and that was what my father would be doing if he had been healthy enough to come, so I was simply filling his place. But since we’re no longer with the expedition and no longer following their path, there’s no obligation any more. I just want to see the magnificent dragon that my father saw. For all I’ve been brought up with the tales of his triumphs, I’ve never actually seen a dragon.”

Mulan laughed, but then something caught her attention and she stopped, frowning and pressing a finger to her lips when Belle opened her mouth to ask what was wrong.

“Did you hear that?” she hissed, her voice barely above a breath. Belle shook her head, but Mulan’s furtive manner was making her nervous and she jumped as the trees around them rustled.

“That’s no animal,” Mulan said, and she carefully picked up her sword, moving on silent feet towards the edge of the clearing. Belle followed her, drawing her own blade. This road was a quiet one, but it was not unheard of for opportunistic bandits to seize every chance they could to make a quick profit from unsuspecting travellers.

“Wait here.”

Belle did as requested, watching Mulan slip into the undergrowth. A second later she heard the sound of running footsteps and Mulan’s exclamation of ‘it’s you!’ and she couldn’t stay put any longer, following her friend through the trees. When she found her, Mulan had her sword drawn and was circling the strange man from the inn, who was holding his quarterstaff in a defensive grip.

“You were at the inn,” Belle said, raising her own sword. “Have you been following us?”

“Yes,” the man admitted.

“Why?” Mulan snapped. “We’re not carrying treasure, and you really don’t look like a bandit.”

“Looks can be deceiving, dearie,” the man snapped, bringing his staff up to parry as Mulan swung her sword, his agility belying his limp. “And I have no interest in your lack of treasure. More the treasure that you seek.”

“What are you talking about?” Mulan asked coolly. She moved for another swing and the stranger blocked her again, but neither woman missed the slight wobble that his right ankle gave.

“You’re looking for the Golden Dragon and its hoard,” the man said. “I come from the Frontlands, where the Golden Dragon has acted as protector for centuries. I had to be sure of your intentions.”

“So you followed us.”

“Yes, I followed you. But now I know your quest is honourable and you intend no harm, I can help you.”

“How do you propose to do that?” Mulan’s stance was steady, her dark eyes flashing fire.

“You’re going the wrong way,” he said, and Belle could tell that he was tiring. “There’s an easier path through the Devil’s Mountains to the Frontlands, and I can show it to you. As long as you keep your word that no harm will come to the Golden Dragon.”

“And why on earth should we trust you after your deception?” Belle asked.

“Because I know that blade,” the man panted, nodding towards Belle’s waist. She glanced down to the hilt of the small dagger tucked into her belt. It was a letter opener in comparison to the heavy sword that she was used to using, but it had been her father’s and he had gifted it to her when she had left their home to come on this expedition. “ _Aneirin_ ,” he continued. “That blade is _Aneirin_. It once belonged to Lord Maurice of the Marchlands. You must be the Lady Belle.”

“Belle?” Mulan pressed. “Do you know him?”

Belle shook her head, perturbed, and carefully lowered her sword, drawing Aneirin instead. It was an old dagger, older than Belle herself, and the gold handle was worn and tarnished from use but the scorch-marked blade was still sharp and effective.

“I don’t know him, but he knows my father,” she said.

A little unsurely, still watching the man like a hawk, Mulan lowered her sword. He swung his staff down and leaned on it heavily, catching his breath.

“We met, many years ago, when he was travelling in the Frontlands,” he said eventually. “I owe him a great debt.”

Belle sheathed her dagger and looked at him, her arms folded.

“My father doesn’t speak much of his time in the Frontlands,” she said. “What’s your name? He might have mentioned you.”

The man bowed as low as the staff would allow. “Rumpelstiltskin, at your service.”

Belle shook her head. “I’m sorry, I’ve not heard that name before, but you know Aneirin, so for now, I’m choosing to believe you.”

“Thank you.”

They continued to stand in the trees for a while in a screamingly awkward silence, none of the party knowing where to go from there.

“Well,” Mulan said decisively. “Standing around here isn’t going to get us anywhere. I say we all go back to our camp and get some rest. I’ll take first watch.”

X

The rest of the night proved uneventful, but Belle found it hard to drop off to sleep, watching the flickering flames of the campfire and Rumpelstiltskin beyond them. He had brought his own horse over to graze with theirs from where he had been hiding a short way from their camp, and set himself up a little apart from the two ladies, leaning back on his pack and pulling his hood down over his face. He seemed to be completely at ease with them despite Mulan’s vehemence in their earlier fight. Mulan, for her part, did not take her eyes off him, and Belle sighed, closing her own and wondering how Rumpelstiltskin knew her father and what it was that her father had done for him that had resulted in the debt he claimed to owe. Surely if such an event had occurred, Maurice would have told her about it. He had told her so many tales of his travels that she had been convinced he had told her everything there was to know. Evidently not. As she had said to Rumpelstiltskin, he spoke very little of the Frontlands.

She began to wonder. Rumpelstiltskin was from the Frontlands and determined that no harm should come to the Golden Dragon. It was in the Frontlands that Maurice had seen the Golden Dragon and yet failed to kill it. Somehow she was certain that the two instances were linked.

Eventually she must have drifted off, because the next thing she knew, Mulan was shaking her awake to take watch. It was still dark, the full moon high in the sky, and Belle shivered in its cold light. Once they reached the mountains they would have to be on their guard for wild dogs, but they did not usually venture this far north. All the same, she kept her ears open for their telltale howling. The campfire was still lit, but the flames were dying now, a small, slow burn rather than a dancing blaze. Belle heaved herself into a sitting position and huddled up in her blanket, stirring at the fire with a stick to try and put a bit more life into it. Whatever she did seemed to work, and the embers glowed a little brighter. Glancing up, she saw that Rumpelstiltskin was also awake, watching her from the depths of his hood like he had done in the inn. Had he known then that she was Maurice’s daughter? Presumably he had recognised the blade as soon as he had seen her, and that was the reason for his unnerving interest.

Their eyes met, and for a moment the man’s glowed yellow and reptilian in the firelight. The unnatural colour gave him an even more mysterious air than he already had, and Belle had to admit that for all she still might not trust him, she found him truly fascinating. From the way he stared at her so unashamedly, he seemed to find her fascinating as well, although perhaps not in the same way. Whilst Belle was wondering who he was and where he came from, he seemed to be looking at her like an explorer studying a newfound specimen of plant or animal life, like she was something completely alien to him. The thought did not discomfit her quite as much as it perhaps should have done.

She stirred the fire again, and at length Rumpelstiltskin seemed to tire of observing her and closed his eyes. Belle continued to watch him, and wonder. The flames were burning much hotter now and she moved closer to them, holding out her hands to capture the warmth. As he shifted in his sleep, Rumpelstiltskin’s hood fell back a little to show his face, and Belle took the time to commit his image to memory. He must have been in his mid-fifties, she thought, his dark hair and rough stubble liberally peppered with grey. His entire unkempt demeanour spoke of a life on the road with no fixed abode, but he did not appear to be in anyway destitute, not like the helpless beggars that she had seen by the side of the road on her travels before. His exile from society was self-imposed, a choice, rather than because it was the only path left to him. All the same, there were lines in his face that showed signs of hardship and a life that had seen more than its fair share of pain and troubles. Perhaps that was why he had decided upon this life of vagrancy, to get away from whatever it was that had caused such woes.

Presently something caught her eye, her brow furrowing. As the flames flickered, for a moment his skin seemed to glitter in the firelight, just has his dark brown eyes had glowed earlier. She knew that it could only have been a trick of the light, but all the same, she had never seen firelight have that effect before, and she’d sat around enough campfires to know. For those brief moments that the hot flames illuminated him as she prodded the logs, he seemed almost to have scales. Belle shook the thought away as a fanciful notion, the product of a tired brain warring with far too many questions.

Although she should have roused Rumpelstiltskin to take a turn at guarding, Belle knew that Mulan did not quite trust him enough not to murder them both in their sleep and make off with what little they had, so she stayed up until dawn, when her fellow travellers woke naturally. She’d probably feel the long hours later, but for the moment she was very awake and comparatively refreshed, her mind too caught up in mysteries to want to sleep. Breakfast was a quick meal, shared from the provisions that the three had between them and spent looking over Mulan and Rumpelstiltskin’s maps before they broke camp, aiming for a hard day’s ride and to get to the Devil’s Mountains as soon as possible. If Rumpelstiltskin’s shortcut was to be believed, then they would reach the Frontlands at least a day ahead of schedule and far before the rest of the party they had set out with arrived. With any luck, they could see the Golden Dragon and investigate its hoard before it was forced to flee from the other slayers. Maybe they could warn it of the coming danger.

“So what do you think?” Mulan asked, slowing Khan to a walk so that she could keep pace with Belle and stay downwind of Rumpelstiltskin, ensuring that their conversation could not be overheard.

“I’m not sure,” Belle said. “I mean, in the end, there are two of us and only one of him, if it comes down to that. I just wish Papa was here so that I could verify his story.”

“It’s not much of a story, really,” Mulan said dryly. “Perhaps if he wasn’t quite so cagey about it, I’d be more inclined to trust him.”

Belle nodded. “I know what you mean. But at the same time, no-one knows this dagger. Names have power, Mulan, and in the Marchlands, the name of a blade is a precious thing, entrusted to very few. He knew the name, which means that Papa must have trusted him enough to give it to him.”

“I guess. But your father’s trust aside, at the first sign of any funny business…”

“I know.” Belle sighed. “I wish he’d just tell us what happened, but then, my father’s always somewhat reticent about the Frontlands too. Something’s going on, something to do with the Golden Dragon.”

“Well, I think that’s a given,” Mulan said dryly. “Still, we shall see how it goes. Just keep your guard up, Belle, yes? I may not have known you very long but I can already see that you give your trust easily.”

It was true, Belle supposed, but despite the strangeness and suddenness of their acquaintance, Belle felt that the kernel of trust she had given to Rumpelstiltskin was not misplaced.

X

The next few days passed in much the same way, riding during the day and resting in secluded spots away from the road at night, with no sign of any strange behaviour from Rumpelstiltskin. The evening that they spent in the secret tunnel under the mountains had been a claustrophobic and uncomfortable one, and Belle was half-tempted to get out and go the longer way round, but once they started moving again and found themselves so near to where they needed to be, both she and Mulan had to admit that Rumpelstiltskin was right and his route had indeed saved them time and effort at no personal cost. It was round about then that Mulan decided to trust Rumpelstiltskin a little more, with only a couple more nights before they reached their destination, and with that trust, so Rumpelstiltskin came out of his shell somewhat. He had always hung back a little, letting Belle and Mulan ride on together, but now he accepted Belle’s trotting along beside him.

“Mulan says that we should make good time,” she said, for want of any other conversation starter. “I suppose you’re glad to be back in the Frontlands.”

Rumpelstiltskin nodded. “Yes, it’s always good to come home.”

Belle wanted to ask more about his home; since his appearance was not conducive to his having a permanent one.

“Where are you from, originally?” she hedged.

“I come from the mountains,” Rumpelstiltskin said. “Where you’re headed, in fact.”

“What’s it like there?”

“Beautiful,” Rumpelstiltskin breathed. “Starry skies for miles around, just you and the mountains and the open air. It’s so natural and unsullied, far away from the bustles of the towns and the petty squabbles of the local lords.”

Belle smiled at the warmth in his voice as he spoke so passionately about the place he called his home.

“It sounds idyllic,” she said. Rumpelstiltskin nodded, but there was a sadness in his dark eyes.

“It can be lonely, though,” he murmured wistfully. “All that nature and beauty and no-one to share it with.”

He looked older than his years then, as if he’d lived centuries alone and had no desire to spend any more time on his own. Belle wondered if he’d always been alone or if a family had ever featured in his past.

“Well, you can share it with Mulan and me,” she said brightly. Rumpelstiltskin smiled.

“Yes, I’d like that.”

Belle grinned, and his own small smile widened, and then Belle realised that she was staring at him, and looked away with an embarrassed cough. When she turned back, Rumpelstiltskin was no longer looking at her, focussed very intently on the track in front of him and the movement of Khan’s tail swinging as he walked. If she wasn’t very much mistaken, the tips of his ears had gone a little pink, and she smiled to herself. Perhaps she was not the only one wanting to get to know her travelling companion a little better. The thought kept her amused until they set up camp for the night, and she kept stealing glances at Rumpelstiltskin throughout the evening.

Belle had always been a light sleeper and it did not take a lot to rouse her from slumber, which she supposed was an advantage when sleeping on the road and open to all kinds of dangers. She wasn’t quite sure what it was that had woken her this time, but opening her eyes and looking around, she soon became aware. Rumpelstiltskin was nowhere to be seen, and she narrowed her eyes, cursing the man under her breath. He had meant to be taking the watch and preventing any harm from coming to her and Mulan whilst they slept, and now he’d gone and abandoned his post. Perhaps Mulan was correct in not trusting him entirely yet, even if they had made it to the Frontlands without incident. Belle sat up and looked around for any sign of where he might have gone to, her hand going to the hilt of her dagger as she expected to be set upon by bandits at any moment. There was nothing to see, and after spending several moments in silence, barely breathing, Belle concluded that there was nothing to hear, either.

A crackle from the fire made her jump and she glanced over to it, her brow furrowing. To all intents and purposes it looked like any normal fire should, but the sparks spitting out of it had a golden colour to them. For a moment she was reminded of how Rumpel’s skin had looked like with the fire playing off it, scaled and glittering, and she wondered if somehow he was responsible for this odd behaviour. Belle had never really believed the tales of mages and warlocks that she had read about in her mother’s books, always being of the firm impression that there were no such thing as magicians, but if there were, then she couldn’t deny that Rumpel definitely fitted the stereotype of a wandering wizard.

Belle shook her head crossly. When had she started calling him Rumpel?

She got to her feet and padded quietly around their campground, but aside from the occasional spark from the fire, there was still nothing out of the ordinary. Belle looked over at Mulan, still sleeping peacefully near the fire, and she debated staying with her and keeping watch in the absence of their nominated lookout, or going after their fellow traveller and asking him what the hell he was playing at.

She tried to think about it logically. It could simply be that Rumpel had slipped away to answer nature’s call; his packs were still there beside the fire. He hadn’t done a runner completely. She waited a few minutes, but he still did not return, and Belle began to fear that perhaps he had not left them of his own accord and there were some unknown malefactors in the undergrowth waiting to grab her having already dispatched him.

Waiting very quietly in the undergrowth. She hadn’t heard a sound since she had woken, and surely she would have noticed something if Rumpel’s absence wasn’t entirely voluntary. Pulling out Aneirin, Belle ventured a little further into the woods, looking around everywhere for any sign of the man, or any sign of where he had gone.

She found him only a few paces from their campsite, standing as still as a statue and staring up at the star-speckled night sky above them, and she was about to call out to him when she clapped a hand over her mouth, realising that he was stark naked, his clothes tucked into a tree branch. As surreptitiously as she could, Belle backed up and secreted herself behind a tree, watching him. She was a well-read young woman and knew a lot about the world from her books, but nothing had prepared her for any strange nude rituals peculiar to the Frontlanders. For a brief moment she wondered if that was the reason why her father did not speak of his time there, and she bit down on her hand to stifle the giggle that threatened to erupt at the thought, turning her attention back to Rumpelstiltskin. He was still just standing there, staring up at the stars, his back to her. Belle might be a maiden but she was a scholarly one, and she knew that she was looking at a very nice specimen of the male form. The thought of him turning around and catching her peeping made her blush, not just at the thought of being found out but also of what she might see. He was on the skinny side, but Belle had never found the heavily muscled forms of the knights to be appealing when she had seen them practising swordwork in the grounds of her father’s home without their shirts; all hard muscle and nothing else. Her eyes swept over his body from top to toe, and she peered at his right ankle, the bad one that his staff usually had to support. The skin was marred with a black mark, as if it had been branded, and Belle could make out the imprint of thick, heavy chain there. She worried her bottom lip between her teeth, wondering what could have made the mark. It wasn’t unusual for penal colonies to chain their prisoners by the ankle, but surely using hot iron would defeat the object of a chain gang prisoner on hard labour. Besides, the mark of the chain looked too heavy to be that of a prisoner. Too solid. Its pattern looked a little familiar and Belle wondered where she had seen it before, and what it was that Rumpel had done to warrant the presence of such a mark.

Presently, he moved from his stone-like stance, stretching his arms back and rolling his neck and shoulders as if he’d been carrying a heavy weight around on his back all day - well, she supposed that he had, she had no idea how much his packs weighed even if his horse took most of the brunt. He seemed to grow a couple of inches from his slight stature, taking a deep, low breath that seemed to expand his chest more than usual, but the thing that made her breath catch in her throat was his skin. As the muscles in his shoulders moved, so his skin seemed to ripple, going from its normal pink glowing pale in the moonlight to the scaled, glittering greeny-gold that she had seen in the firelight. There was no way that it could be a trick of the light now, the only illumination came from above, and it was steady and silver, not the ever-changing flames. Rumpel’s skin, from head to toe, was the same glittering golden scales. She couldn’t help but emit a small squeak at the sight of him, and he turned sharply at the noise, looking over his shoulder. Belle pressed herself flat against her tree, but he didn’t appear to notice her, yellowy-golden eyes with slitted pupils darting this way and that but never alighting upon her.

He turned away again, and Belle let out a silent sigh of relief, peering around the tree and continuing to watch him as he crouched down on the ground before springing up, higher than any human could ever have jumped, his arms stretching out above him as he continued up, and up, until he was above the treeline.

Belle watched in awestruck wonder as his limbs lengthened gracefully, nails growing out into talons, windswept hair solidifying into horns, the skin of his shoulderblades flapping away to grow into huge, powerful wings, the bones of his spine extending down into a long tail. Her eyes were watering and she remembered that she had to blink, but she was unable to tear her gaze away from the transformation taking place in the open sky above her, where what was once a man had become a majestic dragon, easily three times the size of any of the drakes her father had fought and killed. Under the light of the full moon, his scales shone like the midday sun, smears of hardened, shimmering blue flower clay coating the edges of his wings and the planes of his tail.

Rumpelstiltskin had become the Golden Dragon.

Belle felt her legs give out, and she slid down the tree trunk, hugging her knees to her chest as she continued to stare up into the sky, watching his flight as he soared and looped around in the air, stretching his wings and looking over the land that he had protected since time itself began. Rumpel was the Golden Dragon. She had seen the Golden Dragon, just as her father had. More than that, she’d talked with him, travelled with him in his human guise. So the rumours were true, that the Great Dragons could hide in plain sight among the humans. All of a sudden, a thousand more questions burst into her brain. Had her father known, when he had met Rumpelstiltskin all that time ago in the Frontlands, that he was the Golden Dragon? Was his failure to kill the last Great Dragon cause or effect? And what of the debt that Rumpelstiltskin owed Maurice?

They were all questions that she was aching to know the answers to, but only Rumpelstiltskin could tell her them, and it was clear from the furtive manner of his transformation that he had not intended for her and Mulan to know what he really was. Indeed, after the final part of their journey to the Blue Mountains the next day, the idea had always been that Rumpelstiltskin would take his leave of them and they would find their way back alone. Perhaps she ought not to mention it and pretend that it had never happened.

Still, it was a pretty big thing to pretend had not happened, and Belle had never been all that good at keeping secrets. There was still time to come to a decision. Rumpelstiltskin didn’t look like he was going to be coming down any time soon, and Belle realised with a little reluctance that although she had found their lookout, and found that he did not appear to have completely abandoned them, she had left Mulan asleep and undefended and she needed to go back. She dragged herself to her feet and replaced Aneirin in its scabbard; she had forgotten that she had still been holding the blade. She had only gone a few steps back towards the camp when she heard a soft thud behind her and turned on instinct to the noise.

Rumpelstiltskin had landed, his human form returning with just the shimmer of scales on his skin and the flaps of his wings shrinking back into his shoulders showing any sign that he had made such a drastic alteration to his form. His skin rippled back to pink as he stood from all fours, and in that moment, his and Belle’s eyes met.

She had expected to see anger in his face, perhaps awkward embarrassment, but the only emotion in the dark brown depths of his eyes was fear. Belle gave a small smile of reassurance.

“I…” he began, then Belle couldn’t stop her gaze snapping down his frame from face to feet and back again, taking in everything in between, and he hastily grabbed his shirt from the tree branches, pulling it on and letting the tails fall down to cover him as he dressed again quickly.

Belle remained silent, wondering what she could say to let him know that she bore no ill-will against him for this concealment and that she meant no harm.

“I had not intended for you to witness that,” he said quietly as he sat down to pull his trousers and boots on. “But I needed to stretch my wings. It’s painful not to fly for a few days.”

He looked up at her, expression neutral but eyes still undeniably nervous.

“You can trust us,” Belle said eventually, although she knew that it couldn’t be too much of a comfort. “Mulan and I.”

He gave a curt nod. “I would not be travelling with you if I did not trust you,” he said. “Mulan comes from an honourable culture that respects the drakes, and you wield the blade Aneirin. I know that I can trust you. I suspect, however, that you will have many questions.”

Belle bit her lip. She had so many questions that she didn’t know where to start with them, but she shook her head.

“There’s so much that I want to know, but we should get back to the camp. I left Mulan alone when I saw that you were gone.”

“She’ll be safe,” Rumpel said, but he offered no explanation for his sureness. “All the same, perhaps it would be best not to arouse suspicions.”

He stood again, grabbing his staff and limping over to her, and together they made slow progress through the trees back towards the camp. Belle kept glancing down at his injured leg, and all of a sudden, a rush of cold in the pit of her stomach told her where she knew the chain pattern from. Her father’s drake-chains had hung on the walls of their home for as long as Belle could remember, made from nickel-plated iron, a combination that could burn through a dragon’s hide. The history between Maurice and the Golden Dragon had gained yet another sinister layer, and Belle wanted to know the full tale more than anything. In a sense, she supposed that the self-imposed quest she had set out on was now complete. She had seen the awe-inspiring beast that her father had seen, and that had been the object of her adventure with Mulan. But now, having seen him, she wanted to know so much more.

They reached the clearing where they had left Mulan and their packs, only to find it empty. Belle turned to Rumpelstiltskin, wide-eyed and heart pounding in her mouth.

“Is this your doing?” she asked.

“In a manner,” the man replied calmly. “Don’t worry, nothing untoward has happened to your friend. Just step into the light, and all will become clear.”

Not entirely trusting him, Belle nonetheless took a measured step into the clearing. As she did so, she felt a pulse of warmth surround her, like the heat emanating from a fire, and a faint golden sheen rippled through the air. Blinking, she saw that Mulan, the horses and their baggage had reappeared.

“It’s called a fire ring,” Rumpelstiltskin said, stepping into the clearing beside her. “Dragons have been using such magic to protect themselves and their hoards for centuries. It will last as long as the fire burns.”

So the golden sparks she had seen before _had_ been down to him.

Mulan stirred, rolling over beneath her blanket and looking up at them.

“Belle? Is everything all right?” she asked sleepily, her brow furrowing. “Have you two been somewhere?”

Belle exchanged a look with Rumpel, wondering whether she should explain what she had just witnessed to her friend, and he gave a slow nod, leaving the decision up to her before moving over towards his packs and settling back down, rolling his shoulders as if he could still feel the wings protruding from them.

“Belle?” Mulan pressed. “What’s going on?”

Belle looked from Rumpel to Mulan and back again, then finally beckoned to her friend. Still perturbed, Mulan got up and padded across the campsite to her.

“What is it?” she hissed, glancing back over her shoulder at Rumpelstiltskin.

“You know we were hypothesising the legends that the Great Dragons could turn into humans?” Belle began awkwardly.

“Yes.”

“Well…” She nodded over Mulan’s shoulder towards the final member of their trio. Mulan followed her eye line, stared at the man, and turned back to Belle with her eyes as wide as saucers.

“You can’t be serious,” she said faintly. “He’s the Golden Dragon?”

Belle nodded.

“How do you even know this?” Mulan asked, not disbelieving her friend’s assertion but just finding it rather difficult to come to terms with the revelation in general.

“Eye-witness,” Belle said. “I saw him transform.”

Mulan did not reply, simply glancing once again from Rumpel to Belle and back again, and she sat down heavily on a tree stump, staring into the fire.

“Well, this is certainly… something,” she said. She looked over at Rumpel, who was watching her carefully from beneath his hood. “If you’re really the Golden Dragon - not that I don’t believe Belle, but I’m worried that she might have inhaled some kind of hallucinogenic plant spores - why are you even helping us?”

The man did not reply, but in the shadows of his hood, Belle saw his eyes flash yellow, and scaled skin began to shimmer in the firelight. He blinked slowly, and the campfire was immediately extinguished. Mulan stared at the smoking embers and looked back as his complexion returned to its usual hue.

“I believe your form, but that still doesn’t answer my question,” she said faintly.

“I have my reasons,” Rumpelstiltskin said, in a voice that did not broker much negotiation. He was looking at Belle as he spoke, and she knew that it was something to do with her father and the debt that was owed there.

“Right,” Mulan said. There was silence for a long time before she spoke again. “Right,” she repeated. “Well, I’m certainly awake now. I’ll take watch till dawn.”

Belle wondered, as she lay back down to sleep knowing she was far too excited and full of questions to drop off again, whether Mulan would take advantage of this moment to slip away, the proceedings having taken such a turn that she couldn’t cope with them any more, but she thought that she had got to know Mulan a little better than that over the few days that they had been travelling together, and she was certain that the eastern warrior wouldn’t do something like that.

Despite her frantically scattered thoughts, Belle eventually felt her eyelids getting heavier and heavier, and she drifted back into a dreamless slumber, all thoughts of dragons and debts put out of her mind for the moment.

X

They were on the road early again the next day; Mulan was still with them but she had not quite lost her air of mind-blown surprise, and kept glancing over at Rumpel with a look of incredulous awe. Bringing up the rear of the pack, Belle saw him smile and chuckle before he dropped back to keep pace beside her own horse.

“She’ll get used to the idea eventually,” Belle said.

“I’m sure she will.”

Belle looked at him sideways. His hood was down now, and he was smiling openly, face turned up to the sun. Perhaps having had his secret revealed, he felt no more need to hide away, and she took a moment to study his face, the lines of hardship falling away somewhat. She wondered how old he actually was, now that she knew he’d been around since the dawn of ages and formed from the stars: not born, and never destined to die. She wondered why he kept this form, and whether his human shape could ever change.

Not that she particularly wanted it to change, she thought. He was really quite handsome in his own right. She blushed at the memory of him naked the previous night, and hastily turned her face away before he could spot the redness in her cheeks. She hoped that the revelation wouldn’t interrupt the thoughtful conversations that they had begun to have before crossing over into the Frontlands. It would be a shame if this made things awkward between them, just when she had been getting to know him a little. Of course, now there was even more about him that she had yet to get to know.

“You look like you want to say something,” Rumpel said presently, giving her a knowing smile. “I promise I won’t be offended.”

He might say that, Belle thought, but he might well end up being offended if the first words out of her mouth were to compliment his unclothed physique. She considered her words carefully before continuing.

“I’ve been trying not to ask too many questions,” she began.

“I don’t think that you’ve asked any,” Rumpel replied. There was amusement in his voice. “I would have thought that finding out that one of your travelling companions is the Golden Dragon would have engendered a veritable inquisition.”

“Well, I’ve been trying,” Belle said. “You’ve been very gracious in showing us to your hoard, after all. I thought it would be rude.”

“That’s very kind of you, but I’m open to a little curiosity.”

Belle laughed. “When I saw you transform, you said that you feared my questions.”

“Well, at the time, I did. I was in human form and not wearing anything, as you recall. I think anyone would be forgiven for feeling somewhat vulnerable in that situation. And there are some questions you may have that I simply don’t have the answers to. I have been around a long time and there are some things that even a dragon’s memory cannot hold forever.”

“I’m not going to ask how the world began, Rumpel. I just… I wanted to ask about my father, and what happened between the two of you. Like I said before, when we first met you, he doesn’t talk about the Frontlands much, but I know that he saw the Golden Dragon there, and he couldn’t kill it. I think that’s why he wanted me to come on this quest, to finish the job. But now that I’ve met you, and I know that you know Aneirin, which means you must have spoken to my father, and…” She paused, taking a deep breath. “The wounds on your ankle. They were made by my father’s drake-chains. I recognise them.”

Rumpel stared out across the valley, and for a long time he did not speak. Belle was about to say something else, to tell him that it didn’t matter if the memories were too painful for him to recall.

“I met your father over thirty years ago,” he said. “This is not the first time that Queen Cora has sent out an expedition to capture a Great Dragon. Your father took part in both her previous attempts. The first time, they went after the Onyx Dragon in the north, but Maleficent would not allow herself to be captured alive and took several of the party with her in her last stand. Naturally, she was useless once she was dead.” Rumpelstiltskin’s voice was hard and bitter.

“I’m sorry,” Belle said. “You must have been close to her.”

Rumpelstiltskin nodded. “We were all born from the stars at the same time, all the Great Dragons. As close to siblings as dragons will ever have. Maleficent always had the most fire, the most magic. It’s why she survived as long as she did. Our brother and sister were hunted long before you and your father’s time.”

“What about you?” Belle asked. “What’s your secret?”

Rumpelstiltskin gave a snort of cynical laughter. “I’m a coward.”

“I’m sure that’s not true,” Belle protested, but the man just raised an eyebrow.

“Since the dragonslayers began their quests, I’ve spent most of my time hidden away with my hoard, not venturing out to see the world.”

“You’re here now,” Belle said.

“Yes, I am. That brings me to Queen Cora’s second attempt. Naturally once her quest to capture Maleficent ended in tragedy, I was the only Great Dragon left. That was when I met your father.”

He turned to Belle, and a small smile graced his features. “Lord Maurice of the Marchlands is a good man,” he continued. “I had ventured away from my hoard and run straight into the slayers’ trap. I protect the Frontlands and the southern drakes, and they’d set the perfect lure for me. I turned to fly, but it was too late, and I was met with a hail of arrows. The next thing I knew, there was a drake-chain around my ankle and I was being pulled down out of my flight. But also out of the path of the arrows and the drake-nets. I transformed as I fell, the pain was too great and the iron doesn’t burn a human form. Maurice unchained me and let me go. I knew he was a slayer and that he had killed many of my drakes, but he refused to capture or kill me. Maybe it was because I was a man when he found me, he saw that I was not like the other drakes he had slain.”

“How do you know Aneirin?” Belle asked.

“You know how drake-chains work, I presume?” Rumpel said.

Belle nodded. The chains were unbelievably strong and heavy, designed to weaken dragons and pull them out of the sky mid-flight. They were practically unbreakable.

“We did not have much time before the others found us and the chains had locked tight. His blade broke whilst he was freeing me.”

Belle took out Aneirin from its scabbard and looked at it, at the scorch mark that bisected the tarnished blade. She had always assumed that it had been gained in battle with a drake, but now she was not so sure.

“You repaired it with your fire?”

Rumpel nodded with a wry smile. “I reforged the blade, and named it Aneirin.”

“ _Noble,_ ” Belle agreed.

“Your father saved my life, Lady Belle, and I owe him a great debt. A debt that I am hoping I can repay through you. Once we reach the hoard, I will explain more.”

They continued to ride on in silence, and Belle pondered. She had never pressed her father for details of the adventures he chose not to share with her, but perhaps it was time for her to probe a little deeper, and ask why he had never told her the story of his heroic rescue of the Great Dragon. To have such a majestic creature in her family’s debt was a huge secret to keep from her.

“Hey!” Mulan called from ahead. “I think we’re here!”

For the last few miles, Belle had noticed that the brown mud the horses were walking through had begun to be streaked with dark blue, and as they reached the foot of the mountain, the swirling blue patterns became ever stronger. Blue flower clay.

“Yes. Yes, this is it.”

Rumpelstiltskin brought his horse to a stop and jumped off with an sprightliness that belied his injury, taking up his staff and moving towards the rock face. He smiled as he ran his hands over the smooth grey stone, a true expression of homecoming.

“I haven’t seen this place in too long,” he murmured, before turning back to the two ladies. “Since you’ve made it this far, I assume you’d like to see inside.”

Belle and Mulan nodded eagerly, and Rumpel turned back to the stone. The skin on his hands rippled greeny-gold and scaled, the nails becoming pointed and claw-like, and as his skin shimmered, so the rock beneath his hands also appeared to blur, until it melted away under his touch to show a narrow cave entrance. He ducked inside, and Belle and Mulan looked at each other before dismounting from their horses and tethering them to the trees nearby, the steeds content to graze and recover from their long day’s ride.

“It’s a little dusty,” Rumpel said, poking his head out of the cave entrance. His skin had returned to normal but his eyes were taking longer, still glowing yellow in the darkness of the tunnel. “But it’s warm and dry.”

Belle and Mulan made their way towards the entrance, following Rumpel into the rock along a dark, narrow path. They were walking for a few minutes, and Belle was beginning to wonder how far under the mountain they were, when she saw light at the end of the tunnel, and it opened out into a huge cavern, warmed by bright burning fires all around the walls and floor, the flames glinting off piles upon piles of bright blue gemstones, no two pieces alike.

“Welcome to the hoard of the Golden Dragon,” Rumpelstiltskin said. His skin had returned to its unnatural, scaled hue, but somehow, in the soft light of the flickering fires, it seemed to fit perfectly into his surroundings. Rumpel was a dragon and they had been invited into his hoard as respectful guests. It made sense that his natural form should shine through in here. The cavern was certainly more than large enough to accommodate his full dragon form, and Belle wondered if he wanted to transform but was remaining human out of courtesy.

She wondered if he could still talk when in dragon form, and whether it would be more comfortable for him.

“This is your home?” Mulan breathed. “Oh my, it’s beautiful. I’ve seen so many hoards in my time, but nothing like this.”

“Well, I’ve had a few hundred years to work on it,” Rumpel replied. “I’m glad it’s to your satisfaction.”

Mulan nodded. “I can assure you that my people will not be disturbing this hoard. Did you form all these gems yourself?”

“Yes.” Rumpel looked around the cavern. “It’s not exactly much, but it’s home enough for a dragon. You… You’re welcome to stay, if you’d like. It feels wrong to bring you here and then you having to leave again so soon.”

“I need to report back to the emperor as soon as possible,” Mulan said, “but I can stay a night. Khan needs the rest. Will the horses be all right outside?”

Rumpel nodded. “There are fire rings in place to protect the surrounding area. I like to think that you would not have been able to find it without me.”

Mulan went to tend to their steeds, promising to return for dinner, and Belle and Rumpel were left alone.

“It’s so big,” Belle murmured, wandering around the cavern and running her hands over the crystallised walls.

“Well, I have a tendency to grow in size,” Rumpel said, amused. Belle turned to him.

“You can transform if you want,” she said. “I, erm, I won’t peep.” She paused. “Although I still have so much that I would like to ask you, if that’s all right.”

Rumpel chuckled. “That won’t be a problem. Give me a moment.”

Belle turned away as he began to undress, and she heard the whispering of fabric slipping over skin and thudding to the floor. It would be interesting if Mulan were to choose this exact moment to return, but then she felt a soft rush of air past her, and she surmised it to be Rumpel’s wings extending.

“There, that’s better.”

His voice was a little deeper now; he sounded like her father with his lungs damaged from inhaling so much drake smoke, and she turned to see the huge Golden Dragon stretched out on his belly, forelegs folded neatly and wings stretched out to the ceiling.

“Is this form more comfortable for you?” Belle asked.

Rumpel shrugged.

“It doesn’t make a lot of difference. My human form is perfectly comfortable, I just need to stretch my wings every few days. It doesn’t take any more effort to maintain one form over another. And my human form is far more practical. But here, in my hoard, it feels natural to retain my natural form. It was a cavern made for a dragon, after all. I feel a little small in here otherwise.”

“Woah.” Mulan had re-entered the cavern and stopped dead on finding Rumpelstiltskin in his dragon form. “That’s… new.”

Rumpel bowed his head towards her. “Please, make yourself at home.”

They cooked dinner over one of the fires in the cavern, and Belle would admit that it was nice to be able to eat and sleep away from the open air for once, in a warm and sheltered environment. Rumpel declined the offer of food; he would go out and hunt on the wing later. Appetite sated and pleasantly snug, Belle leaned back against the smooth stone walls, wondering which of her many questions she should broach first.

Thankfully, Mulan saved her the trouble.

“Why did Cora want the Great Dragons captured alive?” Mulan asked. “I mean, we all know the old legends regarding the dragonheart, but since capture is so difficult...”

“You said that Maleficent was of no use to Cora once she had died,” Belle added.

“Whoever has captured a Great Dragon’s heart cannot die,” Rumpelstiltskin quoted quietly. “The key word there, you’ll notice, is capture. The heart has to be fresh; pulled out and consumed whilst still beating.”

Mulan shuddered. “That’s awful.”

“That’s the way it is.”

They fell into silence for a while, and Belle wondered how desperate for immortality someone would have to be to capture a Great Dragon and eat its heart like that. Was Cora really so adamant to remain queen for all eternity, watching everyone else around her grow old and die? Belle wondered what it must be like for Rumpel, who had no choice in the matter and had seen so much death in his lifetime, all his family taken from him before their time. He didn’t seem to be too melancholy at the moment, his head resting on his forelegs and his eyes closed, the odd puff of smoke rising from his nostrils.

Then again, he had already told her how lonely his life was. Belle fell to thinking. Her quest to see the dragon complete, perhaps she could linger a while, and make his existence a little less lonely. The thought appealed to her as she dropped into slumber.

The next morning she was woken early, by the sound of Mulan moving around and whispered voices. Opening her eyes she saw that Rumpel was also awake, his wings folded down over his back as he picked at the gem-encrusted walls with one long talon.

“A token,” he said, as a gem dropped into his paw and he presented it to Mulan. “As a testament to your honour.”

Mulan bowed. “Thank you, Golden Dragon. My emperor will be happy to hear of your benevolence, and I can promise that the Eastern Empire will not encroach upon your lands.”

“The Eastern Empire is welcome here, so long as they come in peace.”

Mulan nodded. “That I can assure.” She glanced over and saw that Belle was awake, and came over to her.

“I have to leave now,” she said. “I have a long journey ahead of me to return home.” She paused. “You would be welcome to join me if you wished.”

Belle looked from Mulan to Rumpel and back again. She wanted to see the world, that was something she could never deny, and travelling to the Far East with Mulan would provide plenty of adventure. But leaving Rumpel so soon after they had found him, after she had come into his life and made him a little bit less lonely…

She shook her head.

“No, I think I’ll stay in the Frontlands for a while and explore here,” she said. “But I’ll make it to the East, I promise.”

Mulan grinned. “I’ll show you around.”

The two ladies said their goodbyes, and Belle watched from the mouth of the cavern as Mulan saddled up Khan and rode away, waving over her shoulder. Turning, she started on finding Rumpel behind her in his human form, watching with her.

“So, adventuring in the Frontlands,” he said. “You know, if you’d like to make the cavern your base of operations whilst you explore, you would be more than welcome.”

Belle smiled.

“I would like that very much, thank you.” She paused. “Perhaps I could even get a tour guide?”

Rumpel just grinned at her.

X

The next couple of days were spent in a whirlwind of adventure, and Belle didn’t think that she had ever been happier. During the day, Rumpel would take her on tours of the Frontlands that he had watched over for as long as he could remember, and Belle learned so much about the country that her father had always been so guarded about, excited to experience everything that she could. In the evenings, they would return to the warmth of Rumpel’s hoard, he would stretch out his wings after a day spent in his human form, and they would regale each other with the tales of their adventures.

“There’s really not a lot exciting about my life so far,” Belle said apologetically, leaning back against Rumpel’s warm, scaly flank and letting his wing drop down over her like a leathery blanket. “I haven’t done anywhere near as many things as you have.”

“No,” Rumpel conceded, his low, gravelly voice wrapping her up like an embrace. She leaned in closer against his warm body, feeling safe and protected beside him. “But that’s understandable considering the vast difference in our ages. And there is a lot that you’ve done that I have never done. Learned to read, for example.”

Belle looked up at him sharply. “You can’t read?”

“I’m a dragon,” Rumpel pointed out, yellow eyes amused. “It wasn’t really considered a necessary skill.”

“Oh Rumpel, that’s awful. To never have known the pleasure of a story…” She scrambled to her feet and rummaged around in her pack for a book. She hadn’t packed all that much leisure reading material, wanting to travel light, but she couldn’t have come on a quest without at least something to read by the firelight in the long evenings. “Here, this is one of my favourites. I can teach you.”

“There’s a phrase about old dogs and new tricks,” Rumpel said dryly. “Maybe that ought to be changed to old dragons.”

Belle gave him a look that brokered no argument. “You’re never too old  to learn to read,” she said. “Although… It might be easier if you were slightly smaller and could actually hold the book.”

Rumpel rolled his eyes, but a little puff of smoke escaping his nostrils betrayed the fact he was trying not to laugh.

“All right,” he groused good-naturedly. “I warn you that I’m a terrible student.”

Belle raised an eyebrow. “I think I can handle you.”

She turned her back as Rumpel shrank back down into his human form, and a tap on her shoulder a moment later told her he was decent. They settled down beside the fire and Belle opened up the book.

“This is one of my favourites,” she began. “Daring sword fights, a prince in disguise…”

“Did you get peckish during a late night reading session?” Rumpel asked, indicating the teeth marks in one of the pages.

“Ah, no, that was a sheep,” Belle muttered. “Some creatures have no appreciation of fine literature.”

Rumpel gave a snort of laughter. “Don’t worry, I probably ate the offender some time ago.” It was a mark of how comfortable she had become in Rumpel’s presence and unusual form that this remark did not cause Belle any kind of consternation. He was a dragon, and his diet was a steady one of herd animals. It was just the way of the world.

She opened the book and began to read aloud from it, forefinger moving over the words as she did so, letting Rumpel become accustomed to which sounds went with which letters. He was not the first person that she had taught to read; quite a few of the servants that they had taken into her father’s household over the years had been illiterate and expressed a desire to learn, and the simple pleasure of reading was something that Belle could not help but want to share with others.

They reached the end of the first chapter, and Belle closed the book.

“So what did you think?” she asked. Rumpel nodded.

“I think I can see the attraction of a well-written story.” He tried to open the book again. “What happens next?”

Belle laughed. “We’ll have the next chapter tomorrow night,” she said. “Right now I think we should probably sleep. You promised to show me the crystal falls tomorrow.”

“Aye, it’s a bit of a trek,” Rumpel agreed. “We’ll need to be up early to see them in their best light.”

Neither of them made any move to leave the fire and make ready to sleep. Rumpel was still in his human form, and he was sitting very close to Belle so as to be able to look at the pages over her shoulder. Belle could feel his body heat even through their layers of clothing; even in human form he was so much warmer than any other person she’d been in such close proximity to.

Coming to think of it, she couldn’t think of anyone whom she’d been in such close proximity to. She looked across at Rumpel’s face, his dark, unfathomable eyes watching her, the flames flickering off his skin and casting his profile in red and gold, and her tongue darted out to lick her lips involuntarily. His interest in her had unnerved her at first, but now she was feeling exactly the same fascination with him, a warm pull in the pit of her stomach that she had never felt towards any of the suitors who had come to the Marchlands seeking her hand. She was extremely grateful that her father had never commented on her spinsterhood, knowing his daughter well enough to know that she would not be satisfied settling down and becoming a wife and mother until she had seen some of the world, a woman after his own wanderlusting heart.

“Rumpel,” she began, although she wasn’t quite sure where the sentence would go next. How did one admit head over heels attraction to a dragon?

“Belle,” he prompted quietly.

“I... I was wondering…” She took a deep breath. “Before, when we were travelling to get here, before I knew you were a dragon, you said that you were lonely.”

Rumpel nodded. “I have spent a lonely existence, that is true.”

“Are you less lonely now? Are you happy, having me here with you?”

Rumpel did not respond for a long time, but then he nodded slowly. “Yes. Your companionship has been wonderful.”

Neither of them spoke for a while.

“Would you be happy if I stayed here for a while?”

Rumpel chuckled. “What happened to you wanting to see the world?” he asked.

“Well, I am seeing the world, aren’t I? I’ve seen so much in the last few days that I would never have otherwise seen.”

“True,” Rumpel admitted. “All the same…”

He broke off, and Belle wondered what was going through his head. She could read him better in his fully human form than she could when he was a dragon or when he was in that strange, halfway state that let him use his magic without transforming fully, but she still couldn’t always tell what he was thinking.

Carefully she reached out and turned his face towards hers, leaning in. Do the brave thing, she thought to herself, and she went to press her lips against his.

“Belle,” he said, before she could make contact. “Belle, I’m a dragon.”

“You’re not a dragon right now,” Belle said. His eyes were dark and his breathing heavy, and Belle thought that he wanted to kiss her as much as she wanted to kiss him.

“I’m still a dragon, though,” he pressed. “We can’t… We shouldn’t… Perhaps it’s best if we don’t…”

Belle pulled back a little.

“Forgetting what’s for the best, would you like to?” she asked.

“Very much,” Rumpel replied, his voice a little hoarse, sounding more like his dragon form. “But Belle…”

Before either of them could speak again, to persuade or dissuade, a noise in the height of the cavern’s ceiling made both of them look up sharply. Belle knew that the cavern opened out into the mountain range much higher up, as that was where Rumpel entered and left in his dragon form, but she had never entertained the possibility that something else could get in there.

“What was that?” she asked.

“It won’t be harmful,” Rumpel replied, standing up and peering into the darkness above them. “Anything with malevolent intentions would have been stopped by the fire rings.” Belle saw his eyes flash yellow, gifting him with the dragon’s better eyesight for a moment. “Just a bird. They roost up there sometimes. Not often, though. I get hungry sometimes.”

Belle just raised an eyebrow at him, but the noise continued to come, as if the bird was flying straight down into the cavern towards them. A moment later, a small white dove fluttered into view and kept descending, its flight purposeful. Belle held out a hand as it came towards her and it alighted gently, holding out one foot and looking up at her expectantly.

“It’s a messenger,” she said. “I don’t know how it found me here, but it did.”

“Some winged creatures possess incredible intelligence,” Rumpel said, without a hint of irony. Belle unfastened the message from the dove’s leg and began to read it, her face blanching at the short message.

“Oh no,” she said, stumbling backwards and sitting down heavily on the stone floor. Rumpel rushed to her side.

“What is it?” he asked.

“My father,” Belle said, her voice choked as she read the words over and over again. “He was ill before I left on this quest, but now he’s getting worse… They say he only has a few days left.”  She pressed her hands over her face. “Oh, I knew that I’d been away for too long, I should never have stayed, I should have left when Mulan did!”

“Shh,” Rumpel soothed, and she felt his arms come around her, pulling her in against his solid chest, his weight and warmth providing reassurance. “You were following your dream, yours and your father’s. He will not begrudge you that.”

“It’s a long ride back to the Marchlands,” Belle said, struggling out of Rumpel’s embrace despite how much she desperately wanted to stay safe in his arms. “I have to set off now, it might already be too late, I…”

“I can fly you,” Rumpel said firmly. “Not all of the way, it would attract too much attention to the both of us, but I can cover more miles in a night than a horse can in three days. You’ll be safe on the wing, and my flight is straight and true.”

Belle blinked. “You’d do that for me?”

Rumpel nodded. “What is it that ails your father?” he added. “I think… I think this might be my chance to repay my debt to him.”

“It’s his chest,” Belle said. “A common sickness for dragonslayers, breathing in too much smoke whilst fighting in the hoards.”

“I think I know what can be done. Do you have a container in your pack, a waterskin?”

Belle nodded, rummaging through her pack and pulling out the half empty pouch. When she turned back, Rumpel’s skin was once more scaled, and there was a sharp, screeching sound as he scraped his claw-like nails down the glittering wall of the cavern, collecting the dust created in his other palm and pouring it into the waterskin.

“Aneirin,” he said, holding out a hand. Belle gave him the blade without another thought, and winced as he sliced open his palm, a few drops of blood adding to the mixture.

“Only those who have captured a heart cannot die,” Rumpel explained. “But a few drops of blood can prevent death before its natural time.”

“Thank you,” Belle breathed, throwing her arms around him and burying her face in his scaly neck. “Thank you so much.”

“You’re very welcome. Now, we must fly. There’s not a moment to lose.”

Belle reluctantly stepped away to allow him to transform, and there was no self-consciousness in Rumpel as he threw his clothes off and became the huge dragon, the entire process taking only a few seconds. Even in her overwrought state, Belle could still admire the beauty of the transition and how naturally his form grew.

“Climb on,” Rumpel growled, lowering his wings and crouching low on all fours to allow Belle to clamber up onto his back, sitting astride his shoulders. “Hold on tight, but don’t hold onto the horns.”

Belle wrapped her arms around his neck, leaning in close to his hide and closing her eyes as they rose up towards the roof of the cavern. A minute or so later, she felt wind whipping against her face, and opened her eyes to the night sky, the towns of the Frontlands racing along beneath them as Rumpel’s wings flapped steadily. She didn’t speak; she didn’t want to distract him, and she just kept looking down, watching the countryside beneath her change but not taking any of it in, her mind far away with her father, praying that she would not be too late. She screwed her eyes up against the tears that threatened to fall, and clung onto the dragon beneath her as hard as she dared.

“I’m going to set you down a little way from the tavern where we first met,” Rumpel said, his voice almost lost to the wind that was buffeting them. “If you can pick up a fresh horse there, you should be back in the Marchlands before the next nightfall.”

“Thank you.”

They landed in the forests not far from the tavern, and Belle slid down off Rumpel’s shoulders. She was surprised when he transformed back human again.

“There’s something I want you to have,” he said, holding out a blue gem around the size of an egg. Belle recognised it as part of his hoard, and she took it carefully. “If you ever want to find me, just look to the gem. Between it and Aneirin, they will always find their way home to me.”

Belle gave a weak smile, wrapping her arms around Rumpel.

“Thank you so much, for everything. Not just what you’ve done for Papa, but for everything you’ve done for me, too.”

There was something in his dark eyes, something soft, something altogether human.

“It was my pleasure,” he said. “Now go, before some drunkard stumbles out here and finds a warrior lady and a naked man and starts preaching the apocalypse.”

Belle gave a huff of melancholy laughter, and left him. Glancing back over her shoulder as she reached the edge of the forest, she saw the glimmer of his shining tail soaring up above the treeline, flying away from her back to the Frontlands mountains, possibly out of her life forever. She looked down at the small gem in her cupped hands, and clutched it close to her chest. Even without the memento, she knew that her time with Rumpel would not be something she could ever forget.

She shook her shoulders, quickly making her way into the tavern to enquire about a horse. The more time she spent dwelling on the past few days, the longer it was taking her to get back to her father’s side and possibly save his life. It was about as busy as it had been on her first visit a few days before, but no-one paid her any mind as she went over to the groomsman. Something caught her eye as she was waiting for someone to bring her a suitable mount, and she turned a little, looking over her shoulder at the two men standing by the bar. She quickly turned away when she recognised them as two of the dragonslayers that she had first set out with from Cora’s castle. She wondered where the rest of the group were, and why these two had turned back. Shuffling closer as surreptitiously as she could, she pulled up the hood on her cape and tried to listen in to their conversation. She caught the odd snippet, and surmised that there had been an argument over direction once they had crossed the Devil’s Mountains, and some of them had turned back, meaning to find more clues as to the Golden Dragon’s location before setting out again with a firm destination in mind. Belle couldn’t say that she was surprised that the group had splintered; with so many slayers from all over the realm, there were bound to be irretrievable differences of opinion.

“Miss!” The groomsman hailed her from the entrance to the tavern and she startled, and the two slayers turned to look at her. Their eyes met for a moment, and recognition flashed in the faces of the two men, then Belle rushed out into the night, mounting her steed and spurring it on, back towards the Marchlands.

The ride took the best part of the day and the light was fading as she trotted into the courtyard of her father’s home. One of the maids rushed out to greet her.

“Lady Belle!” she exclaimed. “We weren’t expecting you back so soon; we thought that you were beyond the Devil’s Mountains!”

“I made good time,” Belle said, waving away the rest of the maid’s questions. “How’s my father, Astrid?”

Astrid shook her head. “He’s in a bad way, Lady Belle. The healer’s with him now. I’m so glad that you’ve arrived before…”

She didn’t finish the sentence, and Belle raced into the house, rummaging in her pack for the potion that Rumpel had made for her as she went, and only just remembering to stop at her father’s door and knock.

The healer let her in, and Belle gasped at her father’s grey complexion, arms limp on the covers. Surely she couldn’t be too late.

“He’s still alive, Lady Belle,” the healer said. “We think he’s been holding out for you. But… There’s not much time.”

Belle nodded. “Thank you, Brother Hopper.”

“I’ll give you some time alone with him.” The healer left the room, and Belle slipped inside, going over and kneeling by her father’s side, stroking his fevered brow.

“Papa?” she said. “Papa, can you hear me? It’s Belle.”

Maurice’s eyes fluttered open and he blinked a few times before finally focussing on her.

“Belle,” he gasped, before he was wracked with a coughing fit. Belle helped him to sit up, and her breath hitched as he spit blood into the waiting cup. “Belle, you’re back. Where have you been? Did you reach the Devil’s Mountains?”

“Don’t talk so much, Papa,” Belle scolded. “You’ll make it worse. I’ve been beyond the Devil’s Mountains, into the Frontlands.”

Maurice’s eyes widened.

“The Frontlands?”

“Yes. Papa, I met the Golden Dragon. I spoke to him. He told me about you.”

Maurice closed his eyes. “Oh Belle…”

“We can talk about that later. He also gave me a potion. It might heal you.”

Maurice gave the waterskin a dubious look. “Well, it can’t make me any worse,” he said with a nod. Belle uncapped the container and helped him to drink a little. He grimaced.

“I don’t suppose he could have added any honey?” he asked, before another coughing fit overtook him, heavier and more rasping than the first. He sounded as if he was choking, and for a terrible minute, Belle thought that the potion had further exacerbated his condition. Brother Hopper rushed back into the room, but then, as suddenly as it started, Maurice’s coughing stopped, and he took a deep, strong breath of air, without the wheezing rattle that his gasps had held before. Even before she had left on her quest, Belle remembered that her father had always been short of breath.

“It’s a miracle,” the healer said faintly. “Whatever was in that concoction?”

Belle shook her head. “It’s a special brew from the Frontlands,” she said, determining to say no more about the dragon’s involvement to Brother Hopper. It was not that she didn’t trust him, but she feared that it might be a little bit too much for him to take in. Thankfully, he did not question it, simply grateful that his patient appeared to be cured by whatever means. He rushed over and listened to Maurice’s chest, proclaiming that the congestion was gone, but that he ought to remain on bed rest for a few days just in case.

“Just send for me if you need anything, if the pain or coughing returns…” Hopper left them, still thoroughly stunned by Maurice’s wonderful recovery, and Belle threw her arms around her father.

“Oh Papa, I thought that I had lost you forever.”

“I thought the same,” Maurice murmured. “What _was_ in that potion?” he demanded.

“Blue gem dust and dragon’s blood,” Belle said under her breath.

“The Golden Dragon?” Maurice hedged, and Belle nodded. Maurice was silent for a few moments, then gave a satisfied nod and a long sigh.

“I suppose that makes us even now,” he said. “Although I never did intend to claim on the debt.”

Belle settled herself on the bed beside her father, kicking her blue clay stained boots off.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” she scolded. “About what you did for the Golden Dragon.”

“It would have ruined my reputation,” Maurice said, but there was very little conviction in his words. “If it had become widely known that I had managed to capture a Great Dragon and then let it go, I’d be the laughing stock of the dragonslaying world.”

Belle just raised an eyebrow. “I know you don’t mean that,” she said. “And even if you did, you could still have told me. You’ve told me all your successes and failures.” She paused. “Showing mercy to a magnificent creature isn’t a failure, you know.”

“No, and I don’t see it as such.” Maurice looked up at her, and for the first time, Belle could really see her father’s age in his eyes. He reached over and pulled Aneirin out of her belt, turning it over and over in his fingers and touching the scorch mark on the blade. “That moment, when I let him go and took back Aneirin, I knew that it was a moment I could never share with anyone. To have met and spoken to a Great Dragon like that, to have seen his human form and to know that he feels and thinks in the same way as we do… I knew that was knowledge that had to be protected, for his sake and mine. I had to keep that secret.”

Belle nodded, thinking about her own time with Rumpel. She understood her father’s sentiment completely now that she had heard his reasoning, and she knew that she would not be sharing the tale of her adventures with anyone but him.

“So tell me about him now,” Maurice pressed. “What was he like?”

“Unlike anyone I’ve ever met,” Belle said, which was not a lie. “He showed me so many wonderful things, told me so many tales of ages past. I felt like I could stay with him forever.”

Maurice chuckled. “He’s a Great Dragon, my girl. He will be around until the stars he was born from die. You won’t be.”

“I know.” Belle sighed. “That didn’t stop me wanting it though.”

Maurice patted her arm. “Go and get some rest, Belle. You’ve had a long day.”

Belle agreed reluctantly and kissed her father’s forehead, leaving him to return to her own chambers. Astrid had drawn her a bath, and it did feel good to sink into the hot water after so much time on the road. She found her thoughts wending their way back to Rumpel, and she wondered if she could somehow get a message to him to let him know that his potion had worked and her father was once more out of danger.

With the warmth of the water and the vast relief that all was now well again, Belle dropped off to sleep, only waking when the bathtub went cold.

X

As the next few days were taken up with caring for Maurice during his recuperation and regaling him with everything that had happened since she left home, it was a little while before Belle could unpack her bags fully, and find the blue gem that Rumpel had gifted to her. To all intents and purposes, it looked like any normal gemstone, but he had said that there was magic in it, that it would always find its way home with Aneirin’s help. Frowning, Belle pulled out her dagger and placed it on the table beside the gem. Nothing happened. Both still looked the way that they had always looked. In hindsight, that was probably a good thing. It wouldn’t do to be magically transported over to the Frontlands without having told anyone where she was going. Gathering up the blade and the stone, she returned to Maurice’s room, settling herself in the chair beside his bed and spreading the items over the blankets.

“What’s all this then, Bluebell?” Maurice asked.

“I’m trying to find a way to contact Rumpel,” Belle said, picking up the stone again and concentrating hard on it. “When he gave me this gem, he said that it would find its way home, so I’m hoping it can open up some kind of communication channel.” She tilted her head on one side, peering into the depths of the stone. The centre seemed to be milky, the colours swirling a little, and she was sure that it had not been like that before.

“May I see?” Maurice held out a hand for the stone and Belle passed it across. He held it up to the light, turning it over and viewing it from all angles.

“Well, it’s certainly been forged in a dragon’s fire,” he said. “This is no naturally occurring stone. Dragonflame has so many properties we can never hope to understand, and I can imagine that a Great Dragon’s magic is even more powerful. But if you feel about him as strongly as you do, then I’m sure that you’ll find a way to see him again.”

Belle blushed. “Is it really that obvious?” she mumbled. Maurice gave her a knowing look.

“Belle, my dear, I don’t think I’ve ever heard you speak as enthusiastically about any man of your acquaintance as you have about Rumpelstiltskin,” he said.

“I know,” Belle sighed. “But the reason that he’s not like other men is because he’s a dragon, Papa. You know that it would be impossible.”

Maurice handed the stone back to her.

“Sometimes, these things come together in the strangest of ways,” he said fondly. “Just keep concentrating. I’m sure you’ll receive a sign somehow.”

Belle closed her eyes, holding the gem in both hands and running her thumbs over its many jagged facets. She thought about Rumpel, and her time with him, and she envisaged his face in her mind. It was easier said than done, as the image kept shifting, from his human form to his dragon form and the glittering, scaly skin that came between the two. She imagined the look on his face, the soft, shy smile that he had given her when he thought that she wasn’t looking, a smile that even extended to his full dragon form, and she smiled herself at the memory.

It might have been fancy, but Belle thought that she could feel the stone growing warmer in her hands, and she opened her eyes. Sure enough, the gem was glowing with softly pulsing light, and she glanced up at Maurice to find her father transfixed by the stone.

“Well, I think that worked,” he said faintly. “Keep doing it.”

Belle glanced into the stone, concentrating on the image of Rumpel’s many faces blending together into one. The milky centre was swirling faster now, as if it was being blown by a great wind, and then, suddenly, it cleared, leaving a perfect image in the centre. Belle was so startled by what she saw that she almost dropped the stone. Rumpel was in his dragon form, but his face was contorted with rage, reptilian yellow eyes flashing and snarling, gouts of fire spewing from his mouth and obscuring the vision. She had never seen him like this before. Was this what he was truly like when he wasn’t entertaining guests? Belle felt her stomach jolt slightly. The stone was getting hotter and hotter against her skin.

“Rumpel,” she breathed. “Rumpel, what’s happened to you? You weren’t like this before.”

Inside the stone, Rumpel roared silently, his head shaking with the bellow, and she saw one of his forelegs lash out, slashing with razor-sharp claws. Claws that were bloody, Belle noticed with horror.

It was then that she saw it. Rumpel was still inside his hoard, she recognised the blue gems on the walls. But his safe haven had been breached. There, around his already injured leg, was a drake-chain, burning against the place where he had already been burned so many years before.

Belle gave an exclamation of horror, dropping the stone onto the blankets. Her hands were red where she had been holding it, and she was surprised it didn’t burn a hole in the fabric.

“Belle?” Maurice began, perturbed. “What is it?”

“It’s terrible,” Belle said. “The slayers, they’ve found him in his hoard, they’re hurting him! I’ve got to stop them!”

She sprang up from her chair before sitting back down again and burying her head in her hands. “How can I? It’ll take days to ride back there again.”

“You said that Aneirin and the gem would find their way home,” Maurice said.

“I know, but…” Belle spread her hands, looking at the gem and the knife on the blankets, both sitting there innocently and showing no signs of moving. “I didn’t think that he meant it quite that literally.”

Maurice sat up a little straighter in his bed and picked up Aneirin in one hand and the gem in the other.

“Both of these were forged in the fire of the same dragon,” he said firmly. “It connects them. They belong together, and if they stay together, well then, they’ll find their way home and take you with them. I’ve spent enough time around dragons to know that no matter what, they don’t lie.”

Belle nodded, and she took the two items back from her father, running her thumb over the rough surface of the stone. In its depths, she could still see Rumpel’s image, fighting against the slayers as they came at him with their blades and arrows. He was putting up a good fight, snarling and clawing and breathing huge jets of flame, but there was only one of him, and many more hunters. Belle looked away, unable to bear seeing him hurt any more, but as she did, the face of one of the slayers caught her eye. It was one of the men that she had seen in the tavern on her way back to the Marchlands. Had they seen Rumpel fly her in, and somehow followed him back to his hideaway? Perhaps it was the blue clay on her clothes that had given away his whereabouts. She screwed her eyes up tight; if the slayers had found Rumpel because of her then she would never forgive herself. Holding the stone tightly, her fingertips found a small indent in the raw surface, and she pressed her thumb over it, looking at the shape it left impressed there. It was too neat to have been made organically during the stone’s formation. This mark had definitely been made afterwards, deliberately. Perhaps…

“I think I’ve got it,” she said, and she picked up Aneirin, about to make the connection when something flashed a warning in the back of her mind. If this worked and she was transported back to the hoard, then she’d transport herself into the middle of a terrible battle between dragon and man. As much as she wanted to get back to Rumpel’s side as quickly as possible, she knew that a couple of minutes to prepare herself for the inevitable fight would help more than hinder. Giving Aneirin and the stone back to her father, she rushed back to her own room and changed into her practical adventuring gear, grabbing her sword and bow.

“You’re really going then,” Maurice said as she returned and he took in her attire. Belle nodded.

“I have to, Papa. I think I might be the reason that they found him, and I can’t leave him to fight them alone.”

Maurice nodded. “I understand, Bluebell. Just promise me that you’ll be careful, sweetheart? Please? I know you want to help, but I know that the men you’re going up against…” He broke off and shook his head. “Well, you’ve seen them for yourself.”

Belle nodded. “I’ll be careful,” she said, embracing him and kissing his forehead. “I promise, Papa. But I have to do this; I have to help him.”

“Then that’s what you should do,” Maurice said, handing Aneirin and the gem back to her. Belle found the small indent, and taking a deep breath, she fitted the end of the blade into the stone. For a long while, nothing happened. Then there was a bright flash of light, and Belle felt her surroundings melt away around her, her father’s bedroom dissolving into nothingness. Dazed and disorientated in the darkness that followed, Belle tried to get her bearings, wondering if she was even still in the world at all, or if she had been transported to somewhere entirely different.

Another flash came, more powerful than the first and accompanied with a rushing roar in her ears as images began to materialise around her.

Belle fell onto all fours on the hard stone floor of the hoard, panting for the breath that she didn’t realise she had been holding all throughout her journey. The roaring in her ears was refusing to die away, and with a jolt she realised it was because she was actually hearing it properly; it was Rumpel’s roar of anguish as he struggled against his bonds.

Belle got to her feet, finding herself at the back of the hoard, hidden behind one of the rapidly waning fires. The stench of blood and burning flesh filled her nose, making her queasy, and she forced herself not to gag as she peered around the flames. There were five slayers in the hoard, although she knew from the bodies lying around on the ground that there had been a fair few more. They didn’t seem to have noticed her arrival, and that was to her advantage. She strung her bow and notched an arrow; archery had never been her strongest point; she was better with a blade, but she had nothing else that she could use from a distance.

The bow string snapped back and her arrow hit its mark, downing the slayer who had been yanking on the drake-chains and keeping Rumpel from getting back on his feet. Although she knew that the chain had to be hurting him, as soon as the pressure was released he scrabbled back up, the movement of the chain sending the fallen slayer flying into one of his colleagues.

That was what betrayed her position, and Belle drew her sword as one of the other slayers rushed towards her, jumping across the fires as if they were nothing. Behind him, as she came out of her hiding place, she saw Rumpel’s eyes widen as he noticed her.

His gaze seemed to focus then, and he reached out, snatching up one of the other slayers as a thrown spear bounced off his thick hide and shattered. Belle heard the man’s scream cut off quickly as he was thrown to the floor, but then her own assailant was upon her and she was forced into a battle of blades.

“Well, if it isn’t Lady Belle,” the slayer snarled. Belle recognised him as Sir Claude, the odious man from the cart. “So eager to be coming on an adventure to find the Golden Dragon, and now she ends up protecting it instead. Should have known that you were too soft for a career in slaying. You’re an insult to your father’s name.”

“My father does not torment innocent creatures incessantly,” Belle snapped. Beyond Claude, Rumpel was trying to get at another of the hunters who was perched on the higher reaches of the gemstone wall, shooting out arrows from a hiding place that the dragon’s huge form could not reach into. Belle had to leave him to it, concentrating on her own fight. She couldn’t let herself be distracted, and it was clear that, although skilled with a blade, Belle simply didn’t have the physical strength of the burly Sir Claude. If she couldn’t outmatch him with bulk, she would have to outsmart him with brains. That, she thought, wouldn’t be quite so much of a problem. The problem would be staying on her toes long enough to think up a suitable distraction. Claude was pushing her back, the scrape of steel on steel ringing in her ears as she glanced around the cavern, looking for a distraction, and she had to side-step to avoid a fire.

Inspiration struck, and Belle dived out of the way of Claude’s blade, shoving her sword into the fire and flinging up blazing kindling into his face. He cried out with pain, dropping his sword  as both hands came up to his eyes, and Belle skidded out of his way as he careened towards her blindly, running straight into the fire and howling as his clothing caught alight. Belle winced, unable to watch as the burning man stumbled away towards the cavern mouth and out of sight. She was not proud of what she had done, but it had been necessary, to protect both Rumpel and herself. Belle got to her feet, winded but unharmed, and looked over at Rumpel as she bent to pick up her sword.

“Rumpel!” she screamed. “Behind you!”

Rumpel lowered his spread wings, glancing over his shoulder to see the final slayer creeping up on him, and he lashed out with his tail, knocking the man flying and sending him in a perfect arc through the cavern overhead. The slayer crashed head first into the rock face where the arrow sniper was hidden away, knocking the other man’s aim off balance.

By the time Belle saw the arrow spiralling towards her, it was too late to dodge it, and she felt a searing pain in her chest as the point drove home through her jerkin, lodging between her ribs. She staggered, only just avoiding tumbling into the fire, and fell onto her knees, looking up at the Golden Dragon, still locked in combat with the archer.

“Rumpel,” she tried to call, but her voice wouldn’t come. “Rumpel!”

Belle took a deep breath, horribly away of how much her chest rattled as she did so. As long as the arrowhead remained where it was, she wouldn’t lose as much blood. Perhaps Rumpel could do something to help; maybe his flame could cauterise the wound. She broke off the arrow, leaving the head where it was, and moved carefully and slowly across the floor towards Rumpel’s hind legs, drawing Aneirin as she went. A blade forged in dragon’s fire would be strong enough to help loosen the drake-chain. Rumpel glanced down and saw her at his feet, and he took a limping step to one side, hiding her behind the bulk of his body as he continued to claw and spout flame at the archer in his hiding place. Belle worked the chain with Aneirin, but her hands were shaking with the pain, and she could not be too wild in her movements lest she catch Rumpel with the blade and hurt him even further.

With a final, terrible roar, Rumpel succeeded in flinging the final slayer from his perch, and for a moment, the only sound in the cavern was the panting of both human and dragon as they looked around, trying to ensure that they were both safe at last.

“Thank you,” Rumpel rasped, and he lowered his huge body to the ground, giving a hiss of pain as the drake-chain caught against his ankle again. “You came back.”

“I had to, I couldn’t…” Belle gave a whimper as the chain finally broke and Rumpel kicked it free, unable to bear the pain in her chest and the weakness in her limbs any longer.

“Belle?” Rumpel’s voice was concerned, and a moment later his snout was nosing at her gently as she slumped on the ground. “Belle, you’re hurt.”

Belle nodded. “The archer…”

Rumpel’s leg shifted where she had been resting against it, and she fell to the ground, unable to summon any more strength to stay upright.

“Oh no, Belle, no!”

Her vision was hazy, but Belle could see Rumpel shrinking down into his human form, scrambling across the cavern towards her, his injured leg still too weak to support him.

“Belle!” His warm, calloused hands cupped her face, thumbs gently brushing her cheeks. “No, no, this can’t be happening!”

“It’s ok,” Belle said, her breath coming in painful little pants, and she wished that she didn’t sound so weak. “At least… I got to see you again… And you’re safe now…”

“Oh Belle… This wasn’t how it was supposed to be…” He pressed his forehead against hers, and Belle closed her eyes, savouring his warmth where she felt so very cold.

“Just hold me,” she whispered. “Please.”

Rumpel did not reply, but a moment later she felt one of his hands come down from her face to hover over her wound. He was not touching her, but she could still sense his warmth there.

“Rumpel?” she asked. “What are you doing?”

“I… I think I can save you, Belle,” he said. “I think I know a way. But… It would change you. I’m a dragon, not a human. I can save your life, but… you would become like me.”

Belle opened her eyes. There was darkness threatening the edge of her gaze, but she could see Rumpel’s dark eyes, looking at her questioningly.

“I’d be… a dragon?” she panted.

Rumpel nodded. “A Great Dragon. It’s the only way I know would work, but it would change you.”

“Why… haven’t you done it?” Belle asked, her voice barely more than a breath now.

“Because no-one decides your fate but you. I could not make that choice for you.”

Belle closed her eyes. She thought about her father, and about Mulan, and about all the adventures that she had planned to have, adventures that seemed, for the moment, destined never to come into fruition. But surely, she could still have such adventures if she was a Great Dragon? It would not mean that she could never see her friends or family again.

“Do it,” she whispered.

“It’s forever,” Rumpel warned her.

Belle opened her eyes, his misty face swimming above her.

“I know.”

Belle closed her eyes again, and braced herself for what was to come. She expected that the transformation would be painful, but she was already in pain, so what difference would it make?

She was not expecting the soft brush of Rumpel’s lips against hers, the kiss starting slow and tentative then becoming firmer and firmer, more confident and passionate. And as his mouth slanted over hers, Belle felt the strangest sensation, a numbing, tingling effect that spread from her lips where their bodies and souls met, pulsing out through her veins until she felt no more pain, just a steadily increasing warmth.

There was a sudden, sharp pain in her chest, and she realised that Rumpel had pulled the arrowhead out, but she felt no blood weeping over her fingers, just that same tingling heat that was affecting her all over, although more strongly at the site of her wound.

Rumpel was still kissing her, and in that moment, Belle never wanted him to stop. She could feel her strength returning to her limbs, and she reached up, carding her fingers into his shaggy hair and pulling him in closer against her. This was what she had wanted to do before, when she had almost kissed him but he had pulled back, before the message arrived from the Marchlands. She smiled against his mouth at the memory; would she have turned into a dragon even back then, or was this some other magic entirely, and the kiss from Rumpel was just an added perk?

The warmth in her veins was getting to be uncomfortable now, and Belle could feel the perspiration beading on her skin as her temperature continued to rise and rise. It made sense, she supposed; dragons were veritable volcanos when their flame was at full force, but at that moment she felt like she was burning alive from the inside out. Nevertheless, she still could not bring herself to let go of Rumpel; even when he broke away from her lips, she continued to cling to him, keeping him close.

“I love you,” he whispered in her ear, and Belle smiled.

“I love you too.”

Belle did not know at what point the temperature became comfortable. It had not dropped, but it no longer felt like it was too warm. Her increased body heat was natural to her now, the change was complete. She was still lying on the floor of the cavern, Rumpel’s warm weight pressed up beside her, and she knew that whatever he had done, it had taken effect.

Feeling Rumpel’s fingers caressing her cheek, she opened her eyes, and he quirked his eyebrows.

“Did it… Did it work?” she asked.

Rumpel nodded. “See for yourself,” he said, picking up one of the gemstones from the floor around them where they had been knocked loose during the fight. He held it up above her so that the light reflected off it like a mirror and she could see herself.

Her eyes were reptilian like Rumpel’s when they flickered in the flame light in that halfway stage between human and dragon, but where his were golden yellow, hers were bright, piercing blue, and she gasped.

“Are they always going to be like that?” she asked. She knew that if Rumpel had transformed her into a Great Dragon, she should be able to switch between forms, but then again, he had been created in this form from the stars so very long ago, and she had just undergone this magnificent change having already been something else. She could tell that she was still in a human form, but everything else was a mystery yet to be uncovered.

Rumpel shook his head. “No, you’ll gain more control over your transformations in time. We all of us had a little trouble when we were first put on this earth.”

He sat up on his haunches a little and looked down at her. “Can you sit up?” he asked tentatively.

Belle pressed a hand over where her wound had been, but there was nothing to feel but the holes in her clothing; no pain or even the tender memory of pain.

“Yes, I think so.”

He held out a hand and she shifted gingerly into a sitting position, trying very hard not to notice that Rumpel was still very much naked, and feeling her face flush when she failed.

“Rumpel,” she began, “what was that? How did you… If you can transform people into Great Dragons, why aren’t there more of you?”

Rumpel smiled. “Whoever has captured the heart of a dragon cannot die,” he quoted.

“I know, but…” Belle tailed off as realisation dawned. He loved her, as she did him, a connection that they had felt immediately and that had only grown stronger over the course of their friendship. She had, in an entirely figurative sense, captured his heart, just has he had captured hers.

“You captured my heart, Belle. And my magic could not let you die. But the only way that it could prevent your death was to change you into a form that was immortal.”

Belle nodded. “A Great Dragon.” She smiled. “I know what they say about True Love’s Kiss being the most powerful magic of all, but I’d never thought that it could be quite so wonderful.” She paused. “Maybe we ought to try it out again. Who knows what might happen?”

“We might blow a hole in the roof of the cavern,” Rumpel agreed, before adding, “it’s a risk I’m willing to take.”

He leaned in and kissed her again, and Belle returned it with enthusiasm. He tasted of blood and smoke, things that would not normally appeal, but that now seemed simply neutral to her changed form and tastes.

“So what happens now?” she asked, once they had finally broken away after sharing a few more kisses to prove that the cavern roof was entirely stable.

“What would you like to happen?” Rumpel asked.

Belle pondered the question for a moment, looking down at her seemingly unchanged body, but feeling the new power running through her veins.

“I think I would like to try my hand at flying,” she said.

Rumpel grinned and moved away from her, his skin rippling into scales before he transformed into his full dragon form. It was lucky that the cavern was so vast, really, Belle mused. There would definitely be room for both of their huge dragon bodies in there, although they might have to cuddle up a bit.

She got to her feet and realised that she had absolutely no idea how to go about changing her shape.

“Erm… how?” she asked, gesturing to Rumpel’s magnificent shining form.

“You need to feel the fire within you,” Rumpel said, voice rasping. “Let it flow through every vein, let it overwhelm your senses until you become one with it.”

Belle closed her eyes, feeling her inner warmth bubbling up in the pit of her stomach.

“Good,” Rumpel said. “You’re halfway there. You, erm, you might want to save your clothes before you go any further,” he added.

Belle opened her eyes and looked down at herself, startling when she saw her hands, although she did not know what else she had expected when Rumpel had told her that she was halfway. Her skin was scaled, silvery-blue where Rumpel’s had been golden-green.

She felt no shame in undressing in front of Rumpel; she had seen him bare often enough, and it was a sight that they would be seeing a lot of in the future if their adventures continued - which Belle knew that they would. She kicked her clothes off to one side and looked up at the Great Dragon before her; despite his lizard features he looked a little bit like his brains had been knocked clean out.

“You’re beautiful,” he finally managed to say, and Belle smiled.

“So are you,” she replied. “In all your forms.” She paused. “So… what next?”

“Find the fire again,” Rumpel said. His voice was oddly soothing, comforting. “Let it fill you up, but let it push out as well. Let it grow within you, and let yourself grow to accommodate it.”

Belle concentrated on the warmth, on the burning in her veins, but she couldn’t feel anything happening.

“You’re holding back,” Rumpel said. “The fire is what drives us, it’s what makes us what we are. You don’t need to be afraid of it, or try to keep it under control. Let yourself be uninhibited.”

Feeling the fire within her, Belle closed her eyes, letting it flow and lick at every inch of her, the bubbling bursting into a roaring flame. She felt it then, felt her limbs lengthening and her shoulders hinging, the wings growing out of her back and billowing out, spine extending down into a tail. She had thought that it would have hurt, but all she felt was a bright burning and the humming sensation of what she could only describe as magic.

“You’re a natural,” Rumpel remarked. When she opened her eyes, she saw that he was grinning, his golden eyes sparkling. “Shall we fly?”

“Yes!”

He took off, pushing away from the ground on those powerful leathery wings, and Belle followed his lead. Flight did not come as naturally to her as transformation had, and it took her several attempts to successfully take off and make it to the roof of the cavern, battering the walls as she chased Rumpel out into the open air.

Then she was soaring, up amongst the stars. Certainly her flight was somewhat wobbly, but with Rumpel flapping along leisurely beside her, Belle did not think that she had ever been happier. She glanced down at the countryside below them. The first time she had seen it from this height, she had not had chance to really appreciate the vastness of the world that they lived in; she had been too worried about her father to notice the wealth below her to be explored. And now, she had all the time in the world in which to explore it, with Rumpel by her side.

It would not be easy, she knew that much. There were still dragonslayers out there, and Cora would not be the only unscrupulous manipulator seeking to prolong their life by any means necessary. But Belle knew that despite the dangers, there were a myriad of wonderful adventures awaiting her, an eternity of treasures to be discovered.

“Look below!” Rumpel called to her over the whistling of the wind.

Belle glanced down to see the Marchlands far below them, and she marvelled at their having flown so far in so short a time. Rumpel swooped in a little lower, and Belle could just make out her father’s house. Chancing to get nearer, she could see that the window of his bedroom was lit, and he was watching out of it. Feeling a little bit silly, Belle nonetheless gave a wave of one talonned paw.

She was too far away to make out his facial expression, but a moment later, hesitantly, he waved back.

“I can still visit him, can’t I?” Belle asked Rumpel.

“Of course,” the Golden Dragon replied. “Possibly not in this form though.”

Belle just laughed, pushing back up towards the moon with a sweep of her wings. “Catch me if you can!” she called over her shoulder.

Rumpel growled as he flapped his wings to catch up to her. “That’s a dangerous dare to make!”

Far below them, anyone looking up to the skies that night would be amazed and awestruck to see the edifying sight of two Great Dragons frolicking in the sky, one so old and one so new, dancing among the stars without a care in the world, assured in the knowledge that their hearts would always be safe with one another.

_Fin_

  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> The wonderful @nia-sketches on Tumblr did a beautiful artwork based on this fic: http://nia-sketches.tumblr.com/post/154944812101/so-last-week-i-asked-for-ideas-what-to-draw-this 
> 
> Please go and check it out! :-)


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